Vignette Thirteen - Poetic Justice
by jellybean49
Summary: Jack's and Elizabeth's occupations join together to combat an unsavory character.
1. Chapter 1

_**Dear Readers: This is 13th of my vignettes. They go in sequential order, but each one has a different unique theme. I hope you have fun reading all of them.**_

" **Jack and Elizabeth Vignette One"**

" **Vignette Two – The Cold Winter" (Jack and Elizabeth cope with the rough winter),**

" **Vignette Three – The Test: Don't Fail Me Now" – (It's fun and romantic),**

 **"Vignette Four – Gypsy Woes" (The most light-hearted in my mind)**

 **"Vignette Five - Blind Faith" (Drama, Suspense, New Friends, and powerful love.)**

 **"Vignette Six - Wedding Dust" –(The romance of getting married and the hours afterwards)**

 **"Vignette Seven - The Rules of being a Wife." (Jack and Elizabeth's first weeks as husband and wife)**

" **Vignette Eight – Changes" (Elizabeth's in danger . . . and so is Jack. Lots of drama)**

" **Vignette Nine – The Lingering Scent of Lavender (A ghost story)**

" **Vignette Ten – Snowfall" (The newest member of the Thornton family arrival)**

" **Vignette Eleven – Wishes and the Necessary Vessel" (Elizabeth's innocent wishes take a strange turn)**

" **Vignette Twelve – Time" (A injured Jack tries to make it home to his family)**

 ** _VIGNETTE THIRTEEN_**

"Poetic Justice"

Chapter 1 – The Transaction

After the last of the town's eating and drinking establishments had closed for the night, the rain began falling in a drizzle; soaking the pavement and the grass in the small front yards of the few houses that lined the street.

The man, grateful that he was wearing his felt bowler hat, pulled his grey coat collar up around his neck. He walked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself in case anyone was still awake and happened to be looking out a window or hurrying home.

When he reached the intersection of the town's main street, he turned to the right. As he walked down the sidewalk, he didn't scan the store windows with the hats and gloves on display, the butcher shop with the meat hanging from hooks, or the post office with the bars on the windows. He continued walking and passed a wood-sided building, glancing briefly at the sign which announced to anyone concerned that it was the Mountie Headquarters for Bear Creek.

He crossed the street. Not bothering to look in both directions. Knowing that most everyone would be home in their beds.

His glasses became covered in drops of rain and for the umpteenth time in the last thirty years, he was irritated that he had poor eyesight and needed the spectacles.

Puddles of water shimmered in the light from his lantern. If the weather had been better, the man would have worried about being seen. But nobody with good intentions would be outside in this weather. If he was in a city, which he overwhelming preferred, there would be taxis and horse drawn wagons, delivery trucks, factory workers going home after their shifts and late night drinking. But this was Bear Creek.

Bear Creek. It was larger than many frontier towns, but nowhere near the size of a bustling city. It had one school. One school teacher. One bank. One doctor. One Mountie.

The fact that it only had the one Mountie was the part the man liked best.

He turned the corner and entered the thin alley. Walked twenty feet. And waited.

There was a tin awning above the back door near him, and although it would have protected him from the rain, he stayed away. Getting too close might arouse a dog sleeping inside, or perhaps someone having a sleepless night. It was best to stay away.

The man stood near the trash can as he had been instructed. He had been waiting just five minutes when he saw a figure approaching him. It wasn't until the figure was just a foot away that his face, wrinkled from age and too much sun, became more discernible in the lantern's glow.

The man with the glasses spoke first.

"Do you have it?"

"Do _you_ have what _I_ want?"

The weathered man reached into the pocket of his long leather coat and pulled out the package. The brown paper quickly became wet from the rain as he handed it to the spectacled man, who took it with one hand and held out his own package with his other.

"How lethal is it?"

"There aren't varying degrees of lethal. Dead is dead."

Without another word, the unemotional man turned and walked away into the darkness.

The transaction had been quick and easy. The man, who felt annoyance at the cold rain which had soaked the bottom fifth of his pants legs, grinned slightly as the felt the new contents of his pocket. When he got back to his room, he would unwrap the thick paper and cradle the small bottle in his hands before holding it up to the light and examining the color of the liquid. Deciding when and how best to use it.

It had been a good exchange.

* * *

Elizabeth, her sleep disturbed by something, turned over onto her side, hovering for a moment between slumber and awakening. Not sensing anything wrong in the house, she never fully awoke and instead returned to her dream as she reached out her hand and touched her sleeping husband.

Jack murmured slightly at her touch but remained asleep. After a long day on rounds - rounds which had taken longer than usual due to his healing injuries -, he had eaten a dinner of chicken and potatoes and then spent an hour walking around the mercantile-house with his colicky son against his chest. The little boy's quivering chin resting on Jack's tired shoulder.

As Jack had walked back and forth across the wooden planks of the front room, he was thankful that he and Elizabeth had moved into the former mercantile when they had first come to Bear Creek. The building's long main room, meant to house rows of barrels and shelves of supplies and still have room for customers, was a good length for pacing while gently patting the crying infant's back.

Elizabeth had been just as exhausted as Jack. Beginning her day at sun up, she had managed to wash a basketful of laundry before heading to the schoolhouse, pushing little Jack Thatcher Thornton in his buggy. After schoolwork and juggling the baby during class and recess, she had hurried home to peel the potatoes, season the chicken, and get the meal in the oven.

By 8:30 that night, all three Thorntons were asleep.

Elizabeth, only a few months pregnant with their second child and not yet feeling discomfort, moved in her sleep one more time, smooshing her feet under Jack for added warmth and familiar security.

The rain beating on the backdoor's tin awing made a pleasant sound that muffled out other noises, and Rip, hearing no more voices in the alley outside, circled around as dogs do before laying back down on the floor.

As he made his way out of the alley behind the old mercantile, the man with the glasses thought about the other man's words.

 _Dead is dead._

 **Up next: Chapter 2**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning's pot of coffee was brewing on the stove, sending the aromatic scent of the roasted and ground beans through the small kitchen, as Elizabeth looked through the pantry. She picked up a small bottle of aspirin, shook it, and then sighed as she listened to the few pills clicking against the side. Moving on to the small stack of bandages and gauze, she counted them and then added to the written list in her hand.

"Jack, I'm going to McIntres' later today. I'll pick up some more first aid supplies. Let me know if you can think of anything else we need."

"I guess I used up a lot of our supplies", he replied with a frown as he walked into the kitchen, buttoning up his blue plaid shirt. He reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before pulling his suspenders over his shoulders.

"That reminds me, I sent another thank-you letter to the Michaelson family with a small check and told them to treat their children to something nice. It doesn't seem enough after they saved your life."

Elizabeth opened the potato bin, counting the contents, and then checked on the number of onions in the onion basket as she continued speaking. "I don't like to think about what would have happened if they hadn't found you after the crazy old hermit attacked you."

"They're good people", Jack mumbled as he picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

He looked around the kitchen. His eyes taking in the bacon sizzling in a skillet, the stack of pancakes on the table with a bottle of syrup next to it, the bowl of scrambled eggs, the oatmeal with a dab of butter melting on top of it, the blueberry muffins cooling on the counter.

In the two weeks that Jack had been back in town, Elizabeth had been insistent on nursing him back to health, which in her mind included feeding him like he had been starved in a barren wasteland rather than having been stabbed three times with an ax.

Jack hadn't originally planned on telling Elizbeth much about the injuries he had received on his recent trip out of town. Not wanting her to worry any more than she already did about his occupation, he had contemplated telling her as little as possible.

But on his first night back - the moment they had lain in bed together with the darkness of the night and the warmth and comfort of her body - he had begun talking. Slowly at first, and then in more detail.

He had told her about the crotchety man who had been squatting on government land and had refused an order to leave. How the old hermit had plunged the sharp blade of his ax into Jack's body before Jack could get to his weapon. How he had thought that he was going to die and all he wanted was to see Elizabeth and their son.

Elizabeth had lain quietly in his arms – gently so as not to cause him pain with his healing wounds – as he had told her about the Michaelson family who had found him as he lay with his blood soaking the ground.

She had asked a few questions, but mostly Elizabeth had allowed Jack to speak at his own pace as he re-lived the events. Once he was done speaking, she had kissed him gently and informed him that she was proud of him.

And that was that.

She hadn't shed a tear or begged him to give up his job as a Mountie. She hadn't become emotional or threatened to leave him if he didn't leave the Force. She hadn't suggested that perhaps he work for her father in the family business.

The following morning after his return, Jack had realized why. Elizabeth had a different approach. She had decided that as long as Jack still wanted to be a Mountie, she would continue to be supportive. More than just supportive. She was going to make sure that he was the best cared for Mountie possible. In all of Canada. Ever. In the history of Mounties.

At least once a day for the past two weeks she changed the bandages that covered the seventy stitches which the doctor had put in his stomach, his shoulder, and his thigh. And at least three times a day, she filled him with as much food as he could possible eat.

"I'm going to turn into a round ball of a Mountie if you keep feeding me so much", he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You need your strength and energy to recover."

"My horse won't be able to carry me. I'll have to carry him."

"Very funny. Now sit down and eat."

* * *

Ten hours after breakfast, Elizabeth carried her son on her hip and tilted her body sideways so he was away from the stove as she stirred the pot of warm soup. Swirling the chunks of chicken and carrots in the golden-colored broth.

She handed the long wooden spoon to Thatch and allowed him to chew on it as she moved to the icebox, where she took out the butter which she then placed on the table.

Talking in a sweet motherly voice, she explained what she was doing as she continued moving. Making several trips around the kitchen as she juggled glasses, plates, silverware, and a pitcher of water while still keeping a secure hold on her son.

 _How in the world did my mother do this? Handle three kids under age the age of five?_

 _I feel like I perpetually only have one usable arm,_ she thought as crouched down and picked up the wooden spoon which Thatch had clumsily dropped to the floor.

Remaining in her crouched position, she reached to put the spoon on the table, and then gently pried a lock of her hair out of the baby's grip.

 _I'm sure that I never pulled my mother's hair._

Elizabeth paused and frowned _. Why didn't I ever pull my mom's hair? . . . Because she never carried me when I was a baby?_

Elizabeth stood up from the floor and then pulled out a chair and sat down _. My mother never held me as child? Of course, she did, didn't she? She must have._

Elizabeth gently bounced Thatch on her lap while he grasped her hair with his pudgy little fingers. The long silky stands mesmerizing him.

 _I just have forgotten. That's all._

 _I was too little to remember those moments now,_ Elizabeth rationalized.

Elizabeth bent down and kissed the top of her son's head. She paused as a realization came over her.

 _Now I remember. How silly of me. Of course, she didn't carry me around. She had help!_

* * *

"That was a delicious soup", Jack remarked as he carried the crying baby on his shoulder and patted his little back.

"Thanks. Lucy gave me some roasted chicken she had. And after the damp weather we've been having, I love a warm bowl of soup."

Lucy, Elizabeth's closest friend in Bear Creek, was also the town's most prolific supplier of eggs and chickens. The pretty blond woman didn't let a week go by without offering Elizabeth good company, a recipe, some quirky folklore, and either eggs or poultry.

While Jack was walking the room with the baby, Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, pulling skein after skein of yarn out of her wicker basket, laying the colorful bundles on the table in front of her where they joined her knitting needles, scissors, and written instructions on how to make various items.

 _Where is it? That's odd. I could have sworn I put it back in here._

"Jack, have you seen my blue yarn?" she asked curiously.

"Nope. It really isn't on my list of Mountie supplies."

"Very funny. But seriously. It was just here this morning. Are you sure you didn't move it?"

"Positive. You must have moved it. I'm sure it will turn up." Jack said over the baby's loud cries as he moved in front of the window and looked out into the dark night.

"I suppose", she said with a slight shrug. "How much longer do you think he'll keep crying?"

"You mean tonight or in general," Jack sighed.

He watched as Elizabeth yawned and then stood up and began straightening up her belongings.

He loved the way a long lock of hair fell over her face as she leaned forward to put things back into her basket and then moved the basket to the floor.

His eyes took in her figure which was full in the breasts and visible in its natural state without the constraints of a corset.

He continued to look at her for a moment before speaking.

"You know, I am incredibly attracted to you. If I wasn't so tired and holding a screaming baby, I would love to make love to you right now."

"I know how you feel. I'm exhausted. Maybe we can just imagine we're making love to each other", Elizabeth suggested with a wry smile.

"So, that's what our marriage has come down to? Being in the same room as each other and just imagining we're together."

"I'm afraid so."

"Little Thatch, you are definitely getting in trouble for this when you're older", Jack informed his son, who was still screaming loudly as his little tears wet Jack's shirt.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Jack gingerly sat down on the couch and leaned against the back cushion, tilting his head to rest on the high back of the piece of furniture. The sleeping baby resting against his chest.

Elizabeth smiled at her tired husband and at her even more tired son.

There was no doubt that both Jack and Elizabeth loved their little boy. They loved his pudgy face and his sweet smile. The cooing sounds he made when he was happy. His long eyelashes. The way he smiled at them and reached out to grab them – or their hair and buttons.

The couple often teasingly argued with each other as to which one of them was more totally subservient to their little prince. But there was one thing that they both agreed on; his evening colicky spells were exhausting.

"What are you thinking?" Jack murmured as he closed his eyes and relaxed. His chest slowly moved in and out, barely hindered by the small weight of son's body.

"I'm imagining you making love to me," Elizbeth replied as she finished folding a diaper and placed it on the stack of the other freshly laundered cloths.

"How am I doing? Am I any good?" Jack, his eyes still closed, asked tiredly.

"You're wonderful ", she chuckled.

"You just keep thinking that. Because your imagination is the closest you're getting to anything tonight."

"If I wasn't so tired myself, I would be insulted", she said with a soft chuckle as she watched Jack yawn.

Elizabeth stood up and looked around the room.

"Have you seen the cat?"

"I let her out before dinner. She can sleep on the porch under the awning. She'll be fine."

Elizabeth gently put her hands on Thatch. She lifted the small boy from Jack's chest and cradled him in her own arms. "Come on, my men. It's bedtime for everyone."

* * *

The Thornton family lay quietly under their covers - Jack and Elizabeth in their double bed and Thatch in his crib just three feet away from them.

All three of them were innocently unaware of the man with the spectacles who was still awake. Even Rip, sound asleep on the floor, made no plans to stir from his spot.

Jack, as the town's Mountie, had made it his business to know everyone in town. He knew most people by sight even if he didn't always know their names. He recognized the men who drank too much, or those that were rough with their wives, or those that always spent more than their paychecks to spoil the women they loved. He knew the women who hated being married and those that desperately wanted to be married. He knew which women were overwhelmed with their families and which ones wished they had careers in a big city. He knew which were the happy loving families and which were not. He even knew what day of every week that the old lady who lived on Maple Street wandered into McIntre's store and pocketed a candy bar without paying.

But there was one thing that Jack didn't know. He didn't know what the man with the spectacles was doing awake at 10:30 at night.

* * *

The man placed his hat on his head and walked out the Bank's back door. Closing it behind him, he looked around and was pleased to find that no one else was in the alley that ran parallel to Bear Creek's main street.

He didn't bother to look at the paper in his hand. Clouds covered the moon making it too dark to read in the street, and besides, he had the words memorized. He folded the sheet of paper, put it into his jacket pocket, and smiled.

Things were going along perfectly.

A cat, sensing warmth and possibly attention, sauntered over to the man and purred loudly. It rubbed its feline body against the man's pants leg, leaving a few stray pieces of fur as it motioned that it wanted to be picked up.

As long as he could remember, the man had disliked cats.

He looked down at the cat with its black coloring blending into the night. If it hadn't been for the white streak in the fur, which reminded her owners of a comet shooting across the night sky, the cat would have been almost invisible.

With a swift well-targeted motion, the man kicked the small animal, sending it careening through air until its body was stopped by the hard brick wall of a nearby building. The cat meowed loudly in a mixture of anger and pain and quickly ran away.

The man smiled.

Yes. Things were going perfectly.

 **Up next: Chapter 3**


	3. Chapter 3 - Imagination

**Chapter 3 - Imagination**

The next evening, Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, leaned forward, and examined her face, looking for new wrinkles. It had been another long day. The baby had been fussy in the classroom due to a tooth coming in, and the students had been fussy because they were bored with the school's grammar readers. Even the family cat, Comet, had been acting ornery.

Elizabeth couldn't blame the baby or the students.

As for the cat, she had no idea why she was so skittish.

But as for the baby and students, that was an easy answer. The baby's emerging tooth couldn't have been comfortable as it broke through his tiny gums, and the school-issued readers were boring. It was evident that if the goal was to get children to read, they needed to have something interesting to read. Even her idea that the students should enter a poetry contest sponsored by the Toronto Globe newspaper had been met with lukewarm results.

Elizabeth frowned when she thought she saw a new wrinkle in her face. Almost immediately she stopped frowning to prevent any more of the thin lines from appearing in her skin.

She lifted her brown hair which was tumbling down past her shoulders and expertly twisted it up in a bun.

Picking up some hair pins, she began strategically placing them in the bun, allowing it to loosely stay at the back of her head. Not content with the look, she pulled a long tendril out of the bun and allowed it to frame her face.

 _Perfect._

She smiled as she looked at her reflection. _Let him imagine away tonight._

* * *

Jack, with one hand on the doorknob, paused with the front door ajar and scraped his boots against the metal scraper on the porch. When he had removed the debris, evidence of his day in the countryside, from the soles of his tall boots, he fully opened the door and walked inside.

"Jack, what are some books that you've read that you think my students might like?" Elizabeth asked as she looked up from the papers on her desk.

"Why? What's up?"

Jack hung up his jacket and then walked a short distance to the playpen which he had set up weeks ago in front of the home's large plate glass front window. He reached down over the wooden bars of the pen - which Elizabeth jokingly referred to as a miniature jail cell - and gently ran a hand along his sleeping son's back.

"I want to get something for them to read other than the Province's mandated readers."

"What's wrong with the readers?"

"They're so boring. If I can get the students interested, they'll learn to love reading. And start using their imagination. You should have heard their poems today. They were pathetic."

"What poems?" Jack asked.

"For a newspaper contest the Toronto Globe is having. So far, my students have written things like 'Roses are red. Violets are blue. I want to win a dollar or two.' And then there was 'Roses are red. Violets are blue. Make me the winner before I sue you'. Oh, and how can I forget 'Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow. Now hurry up and give me some dough.'"

Jack chuckled. "I can't help with the poetry but how about having them read 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz'?"

"Ohh. Good one." Elizabeth immediately added it to her growing list. "I've already got 'Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm', and 'Anne of Green Gables' on my list."

Jack smiled as he kept his hand on his son's back. Feeling the soft rhythmic breathing. "I've never read those two. But how about 'King Arthur and his knights'? And the older students might like 'Call of the Wild."

"Definitely. The wild animals. The danger."

Jack walked over and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek which she offered up to him.

"Speaking of feral dogs and wolves, be careful if you go outside of the town limits."

"Why?"

"I ran into Mr. Clemson at the post office. He said that his dogs were going crazy last night. Barking a lot. When he went to check outside, he didn't see anything unusual. He figures it was coyotes or wolves in the area getting a little too close to his cattle. So, I'd rather you didn't go outside of town alone."

"No problem. I've got no plans to go visiting any students"

Jack gave her a skeptical look. "Promise me, Elizabeth."

"I promise", Elizabeth replied with a slight shake of her head and a smile. "You act like I've gotten myself into trouble before."

"Let's just say I know my wife."

"Then you know that I am more than capable of taking care of myself", she pleasantly reminded him.

"It's the wild animals I was worried about."

A smiling Jack walked into the kitchen and headed for the icebox. He took out a pitcher of lemonade and sniffed the air.

"What are you making here?" he called out as he took a glass from the cupboard, filled it with the pitcher's pale lemon-yellow liquid, and looked curiously at the pot on the stove.

"There's a chicken in the oven for us. That's basil on the stove. I'm boiling basil for the baby's colic."

"Why?"

Elizabeth walked into the kitchen and took of sip from Jack's glass before answering. "Lucy says basil-water is a remedy for colic. Once it boils for a while, I have to let it cool, and then give him three drops."

"Three drops? Can we give him the whole pot?"

"Hush. He's not that bad. He's sleeping like a baby right now."

"He's sleeping like a baby because he _IS_ a baby. And because he's gearing up for screaming for an hour after dinner. Speaking of dinner, do you think we can eat before he wakes up?"

* * *

The couple sat at the kitchen table enjoying the peacefulness.

"You've got to stop feeding me so much, or you'll have to take out the seams in my uniform", a satisfied Jack noted as he set down his fork.

"It will be worth it to have you healthy."

"I _am_ healthy. I'm just a little . . . torn up in places after the incident with the ax."

Elizabeth guffawed. "So that's what we're calling it? A little torn up?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I'd call it more mangled than a little torn up."

"I'm not mangled", Jack argued.

"Other synonyms might be mauled. Slashed. Lacerated. Gashed. Gouged", she said with raised eyebrows.

"Okay. Okay." Jack lifted his hands in friendly surrender. "Remind me never to get into a vocabulary disagreement with a school teacher. Speaking of school teachers, we got a letter from my ma in the mail today. She says congratulations on us expecting again."

"I knew that she'd be thrilled."

"You know, we haven't heard from your mom since you wrote to your family that were pregnant again."

"I was thinking the same thing", Elizabeth said with a frown.

"You did write your family, didn't you?"

"Of course, I did. Both Julie and Viola wrote me. I thought mother would have written back immediately. I know it's our second baby, but I still thought she'd be excited."

"Maybe she's upset that you're pregnant so soon after Thatch."

"It wasn't that soon."

It was Jack's turn to now raise his eyebrows and give her a knowing look.

"Okay. Okay. Maybe it was awfully soon, but I'm sure it's not that. She must be busy with getting ready for the new season of society balls. I'm sure she'll write when she gets around to it. Viola did write that mother was thinking of a special gift for us."

Jack chuckled. "She already sent Thatch a new crib, several outfits, a toy train that he won't be able to use for at least another year, and two stuffed bears."

"Our little boy is sleeping beautifully right now." Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the front room and then took a bite of her dessert.

The apple pie was delicious. Its crust was dented in all the wrong places and the crimping on the edges was irregular but when Elizabeth explained that she had let Thatch press his tiny fingers into the unbaked dough as they made the pie "together", Jack had agreed that it looked perfect.

Jack took a sip from his glass and looked at Elizabeth. "You're wearing your hair up."

It wasn't a question or a compliment; it was just a statement.

"Hmm", she said innocently. "I do love those observant Mountie skills of yours."

Jack didn't take his eyes off of Elizabeth, who was moving her fork from the remnants of a pie slice to her mouth.

"You know what that does to me."

"Do I?"

"When it's piled up like that. With a loose curl spiraling down", Jack continued.

Elizabeth didn't reply but finished swallowing and then took a sip from her glass.

Standing up, she reached for their dishes and carried them to the sink, seemingly oblivious to what Jack was thinking.

"You know I find it sexy."

"Do you?"

"That it makes me want to kiss the nape of your neck. Where you have probably lightly dabbed perfume just to entice me. . . . . And that it makes me want to reach up and gently take out every one of those darn hair pins. And let your hair tumble down through my fingers."

"Are you imaging this or planning this?" she asked teasingly as the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. She kept her back to Jack and poured some liquid soap onto the plates.

Elizabeth waited for Jack to say something in response, and was surprised when he didn't speak.

She was about to ask if he had heard her when she felt the presence of his body standing behind her.

An uncontrollable - but not unexpected- tingle of anticipation went through her torso.

She stood there motionless.

Waiting.

And then she felt them. His lips. Gently kissing the nape of her neck.

His hands softly taking out her hair pins. One by one.

Dropping each pin to the floor where they landed with click-click sounds; the only sounds in the room until she heard him. Felt him.

She felt the warm breath from his mouth as he leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear that he wanted her.

His fingers running through her hair.

His hands finding her waist and pressing gently into her flesh.

Spinning her around.

"I think imagination is highly over-rated. I much prefer reality", he said in a deep low voice as he moved his mouth towards hers.

 **Up next: Chapter 4**


	4. Chapter 4 -Excitement on a Quiet Evening

Chapter 4 - Excitement on a Quiet Evening

Two days after Jack's very welcome dose of reality rather than imagination, Elizabeth walked out the door of McIntre's store, and carefully eased the pram down the two wooden steps.

Her mind was swirling with so many irritated thoughts about the town's banker that it didn't even register in her mind that Thatch was already pulling apart the new skein of blue yarn that she had just purchased and placed in his pram which doubled as a shopping cart and handbag.

Just a minute earlier, Elizabeth had been paying for her merchandise when she had heard the disapproving sound of throat clearing behind her. When she had turned and seen Mr. Sanders looking at her pram, Elizabeth had been utterly confused. Mr. Sanders had a definite look of disapproval on his face. But why would anyone look at her perfect son in disapproval?

It took her a second to realize that the town's new banker was frowning at the book in the pram. The middle-aged man glanced at her and gave her a look that let her know he was displeased with her choice in literature.

 _How dare he disapprove of my book reading?! I can read whatever I want. Just because he doesn't want to expand his mind, doesn't mean I don't_!

She hmphed in irritation as she walked home; hurrying her pace so that she could get dinner started. And maybe a load of laundry before Jack came home.

 _Darn, I still have essays to grade too,_ she realized as she noticed the sun was beginning to set.

* * *

"You're home late."

"Sorry. I had to go out to the Clemson ranch", Jack responded to Elizabeth as he hung up his hat and coat on the hooks by the home's front door and crossed the room.

"Everything okay out there?"

Elizabeth was sitting with her legs bent to one side on the large front room rug. Thatch was lying on his stomach, struggling to turn over, on a small blue blanket.

Elizbeth tilted up her face and accepted a tender kiss from Jack before he answered her question.

"Two of their cattle died yesterday and another one today."

Jack picked up his son who was now squirming happily as he recognized the man who sang to him and carried him around the room.

"Why does that involve you?"

"Remember how I told you that his dogs were acting strange the other night and he thought it was because of wolves or coyotes? Well, now he's got three dead cattle. With no trauma."

"No trauma?"

"None."

"Sooooo . . . does he think they died of fright?" Elizabeth asked with a confused look.

Her question caused Jack to smile. "No, silly – you know, you're beautiful but sometimes you say the strangest things."

"Hush! Just tell me what is killing the cattle."

"I'm not sure yet."

"Maybe they're diseased. And the other night it was wolves or coyotes. Just two separate things. Why do they have to be related?"

"They probably aren't related. It just seemed suspicious to him - first the dogs acting unusual and then the dead cattle - and he wanted to talk to me about it."

"Do you think the dogs knew that sometime was wrong with the cattle? Maybe they sensed that the animals were dying?"

"They're dogs; not veterinarians." Jack smiled and shook his head at Elizabeth's suggestion. "How about you leave the Mountie work to me?"

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips in defiance. "Well, what does Mr. Clemson think happened?"

Jack, with Thatch in his arms, shrugged. "It's probably nothing. But the cattle drives to market are coming up. And the cattle inspector for the province will have to approve all cattle for sale. Now is not the time to have anything going wrong with his herd."

"What do you think?"

"It could be a contagious disease going through his herd. The timing's just bad. Clemson's whole livelihood depends on selling the cattle. And if his herd goes down, the prices rises for ranchers selling theirs."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Jack nodded to his jacket which was hanging on the hook. "I almost forgot. You got a letter from Hamilton. It's in the pocket."

Elizabeth dropped the essays she had been grading, ungracefully jumped up from the floor, and retrieved the envelope from Jack's jacket.

* * *

Jack looked down and frowned slightly as Thatch drooled on his shirt. He looked around, moving his head from side to side, trying to find a clean cloth to wipe up the milky spit. Seeing nothing, he smiled at his son and set him back down on the blanket so he could pull a handkerchief from his pocket.

Elizabeth practically shrieked with delight as she read the letter from Hamilton.

"My nanny is coming!"

"Your what?"

"My nanny. Mrs. Naples. She was our nanny growing up."

"You mean your governess?"

"No. That was Miss Pinters. Mrs. Naples was my nanny. She was wonderful. She started when Viola was just a baby. And then she stayed for me. And then Julie. By then, she was part of the family. She used to tell us the most wonderful stories. And read us book after book. I think I was about ten before she finally left and went to take care of my cousins."

"And she's coming here for a visit?" Jack asked as he pulled one of the essays out of his son's pudgy grasp.

"Actually, she's coming for a job."

"Here? In Bear Creek? That's a coincidence. Who's she going to be working for? Who around here can afford a nanny? Or need one?"

Elizabeth, a hesitant look on her face, remained silent and stared at Jack before averting her eyes and concentrating on Thatch, who was struggling to turn over from his back to his belly.

"Elizabeth, what are you not telling me?" Jack's voice was stern.

An overly excited Elizabeth began speaking in a flurry of words.

"Mother hired her to come work for us for a while. Just until I'm able to manage with two kids. She's wonderful. Really. It will be so nice to have the help. I'll be able to relaaaxxxx", she said with exaggerated pleasure.

"Elizabeth –"

"Please, Jack. Don't say no. You'll just be disappointed when I ignore you."

Jack sighed. "We're not having the second one for months. Just exactly when is this nanny coming and for how long? And she's got to be ancient. How can she be a nanny still? "

"She's coming in four months. To help me out before the new baby comes and then she'll stay awhile after he or she is born. And she's not ancient. She was only like nineteen or something when she started working for us. She read us the most wonderful stories, and she always used different voices for the characters." Elizabeth smiled at the memory.

"I thought you once said that your nanny had been married and was widowed. I always imagined her as an older woman."

"She was married at seventeen and widowed by eighteen. Her husband was killed in a factory accident. She came to live with us and take care of Viola shortly after his death. And then she just stayed with us over the years."

"She never married again?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Now, I feel guilty. She stayed with us for so long that she never had a chance to meet anyone else. . . .

. . .And now she's coming to be with me again", she added with a happy sigh as she pressed the letter to her chest. "She'll be wonderful with the babies!"

"Why do I get the feeling that you think she'll be wonderful with you?" Jack said with a smile as he gently pulled a now wet with slobber essay out of the baby's mouth.

"She will be. She's soothing. I could really use her. I'm going to be so busy with teaching and taking care of Thatch and getting ready to move to your next assignment."

"You know we have no room for her."

Elizabeth lowered the letter and looked around the old mercantile, contemplating where to put her childhood caregiver. "Behind the counter!"

"She's a person; not merchandise."

"Think about it! The counter forms a barrier from the rest of the room. A single bed will fit back there. She can use the shelves to store her belongings! This is perfect! It's just temporary. You can add some curtains hanging from the ceiling to give her more privacy!"

"I can?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Of course, you can. You can do anything. You're a Mountie. And my husband", she replied with a smile. "And if you can't, well, I'll see if I can do it", she added confidently.

* * *

As Elizabeth left the schoolhouse the next day, she stopped and looked at the outside of the building.

Changing directions, she walked to the back of the wooden structure and examined it as if seeing it for the first time.

When the townspeople had built the schoolhouse just a short time earlier they had built a room - twelve foot by twelve foot in size - attached to the back. It wasn't overly big but with a closet, a separate entrance, and a window, it was enough for a single teacher to live in.

At least that had been the intention when the building was planned.

Although Elizabeth was happily living with Jack at the old mercantile, the town knew that her presence in Bear Creek was only temporary. When their Mountie moved onto his next assignment, so would their teacher. The prior schoolhouse, which the townspeople had burned down during a diphtheria scare, had had a small teacherage attached to it. For that reason, it had made sense to build a teacherage for Elizabeth's eventual replacement.

But now Elizabeth had a new idea for the building.

Mrs. Naples' upcoming visit had brought back so many wonderful memories of books.

Fairy tales. Romances. Historical works. Poetry.

Mrs. Naples had always seemed to have a book with her to read to the girls. Whether it was lunchtime in the kitchen, or at their bedside when they were sick with a cold, or simply an ordinary bedtime, the young nanny had pulled a book out and mesmerized Elizabeth and her sisters.

 _Books are wonderful_

 _That stupid banker. What does he know about books? He just needs to expand his mind. People need to read!_

The more she thought about it and looked at the schoolhouse, the more excited Elizabeth got.

 _A teacher can live anywhere. But a library should be right here! In the middle of town! A library!_

 _Before we move to our next assignment, I'm going to give this town a library! With books and books and more books! Of every type! The Classics. Poetry. Science! Adventure. Mysteries!_

* * *

"I would love a town library", Lucy commented an hour later after Elizabeth had excitedly told her of her plans.

Lucy was walking around the kitchen gently patting the back of her own small son against her shoulder. "I was sixteen before I ever went to the one in Toronto. I thought it was the most amazing thing. It cleared up some many confusing things for me."

"I know what you mean. Books just teach us so much", Elizabeth replied to her friend as she finished kneading dough for a loaf of bread.

"No. I mean it really cleared up some confusing things for me."

"What do you mean?"

"My father worked in a book printing and book binding factory. When they had books that were messed up, you know, inked smears, misprints of pages, incorrect binding, stuff like that, they would throw them in a heap to be used as fuel for the fires. My Pa would always save some to bring them home for me to read."

"That sounds fantastic. To have all those books."

"But they were always messed up or incomplete."

"How bad were they?"

"One time, the factory accidentally bound together half of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' with half of 'Peter Pan'. I read that when I was 12. For the longest time, I thought Romeo was one of the lost boys. And I couldn't figure out why Tinkerbell didn't just save Juliet from dying. . . .

. . . And don't even get me started on Mother Goose's nursery rhymes. They got mixed in with a cookbook. I honestly thought 'four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie' was a real recipe. . . .and Miss Muffet eating a tuffet! For goodness sakes, a tuffet is a footstool. I had no idea how I was supposed to cook that!"

"She _sat_ on a tuffet. She ate the _curds and whey_ ", Elizabeth corrected her quirky friend with a laugh.

"Not in the version I read. I told you, all the books were messed up." A pensive look crossed Lucy's face. "Yes, a library is definitely a good idea!" she said emphatically.

* * *

Two days later, Elizabeth frowned as she looked at the faint ink on the sheet of paper which was scrolled in the typewriter.

She realized that she shouldn't be surprised. Using her best stationary and her typewriter, she had spent every evening writing letters to government officials, public libraries, teacher colleges, and publishing companies. It was no wonder that the ribbon of ink was almost used up.

"Jack, we need another typewriter ribbon. Can you pick one up when you're out tomorrow?" she asked loudly so he would hear her over the baby's cries.

"Yeah, I'll pick it up tomorrow." Jack gently jostled the baby in his arms. "Did you give him that basil water already tonight?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I did. Lucy says if it doesn't work, I can try peppermint water. Do you have any more of those Pep-o-mint Life Saver candies? The one's with the hole in the middle. Lucy said I can dissolve one in water and then give the baby a few drops."

"What did the doctor say?"

"That Thatch is perfectly healthy and that some babies just get colicky in the evenings because their stomachs are still figuring things out."

"Figuring things out? How hard is it to figure out? All he has to do is eat and sleep."

"He's just a baby!" Elizabeth declared in defense of their son.

"A baby? Is that what he is? I was beginning to think I had grown a new body part with the way he's attached to me every evening."

Elizabeth laughed at Jack's statement and realized it wasn't much of an exaggeration.

"Does basil water or peppermint water work for Madisons' baby?"

"He doesn't have colic."

"Wait a second. Our baby didn't sleep through the night for months and has colic, and Lucy and Michael's baby never has a problem with either?"

"I know! It's infuriating."

"Is it possible our babies were switched and we got the wrong one?" Jack asked teasingly. Or at least Elizabeth hoped it was teasingly.

"Hush! We love our little boy!"

"I do. But I'd be able to love him even more if he wasn't making me so tired. It must be a Thatcher trait."

"What?" Elizabeth gave him a questioning look.

"Keeping me up at night pacing the floor. Goodness knows, I did it often enough when I was first courting you."

"Hush!" Elizabeth said as she threw a pillow across the room at him, causing him to duck.

* * *

As Elizabeth waited for the mint to dissolve in a glass of tepid water, she looked at the stack of fliers she had made earlier. The simple fliers which she had been posting around town requesting donations of money or books from the townspeople had already resulted in five children's books and two dollars.

 _It's a start. . . . A very small start. But still a start._

On the bright side, Mr. Sanders had totally surprised her when he had stopped her in the street to let her know that he would be making a very sizeable donation to the library. _That man actually might have a good side after all_ she had thought after they had parted _. Especially after how he looked at my book with such disapproval._

The knock on the door took her by surprise and she looked at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders as he went to answer it.

* * *

Elizabeth waited an hour for Jack to come back after he had left with Mr. Perkingen. The man had apologized for interrupting their evening at home, but Jack had ushered him outside before Elizabeth heard anything more than something about cattle.

Finally, bored with waiting for Jack to return, she had grabbed a book to read and gone to bed. Thirty minutes later, she gave into her yawns and turned down the light.

Elizabeth was snuggled under the covers when she heard the key turn in the front door and the jingle of the bell, a remnant from the home's days as a mercantile, as the door opened.

"Hi sweetie, are you still awake?" Jack whispered as he walked quietly into the dark bedroom after pausing to first take off his boots in the front room.

"Everything okay at the Perkingens?"

Jack stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed. "Another dead steer. This time at the Perkingens ranch."

"Their ranch borders the Clemsons, doesn't it?"

"It does. But it's nothing for you to worry about."

"What killed this one? The same disease?" she whispered.

"Not sure yet. I'll get to the bottom of it. I'm sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"You're naked in my bed."

Jack quietly chuckled. "I've been naked in your bed before."

"And I am forever grateful for that."

"Go to sleep", he said with a laugh.

"How's a girl supposed to just go to sleep with a naked Mountie in her bed? And not just any naked Mountie but a naked you. Have you ever seen how good you look?"

"It's dark. You can't see me."

"I've been eating lots of carrots. My eyesight is excellent. Even in the dark."

Jack let out a snicker but didn't say anything for a moment, letting Elizabeth wonder what he was thinking.

She was beginning to think that he may have actually fallen asleep when she felt his hand.

The smooth caress as he cupped his palm on her arm and moved it slowly along her flesh.

"First of all, it's _our_ bed. Not just yours. But I suppose you're right. That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to just climb naked into our bed and ignore you," he said as his fingers moved down to her hip. Slowly touching her body through the fabric of her nightdress.

His mouth moved to her neckline and he nuzzled aside the fabric. He licked her shoulder and made her giggle quietly.

Jack shifted his body, and hers, so that he was on top of her.

Elizabeth felt the warmth of his naked body and she wished that she had gone directly to bed after undressing rather than take the time to put on sleeping clothes.

Her hands roamed the flesh on his back, feeling his muscles, and then moved to the sides of his torso, holding him close and urging him on.

"Careful", he whispered hoarsely. "My stitches."

"I –"

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot interrupted Elizabeth's words before she could say anymore.

* * *

"Stay with Thatch", Jack ordered as he jumped from the bed and hurriedly reached for his pants.

Elizabeth quickly retrieved the baby from his crib and crawled back into bed. Despite her worries about the sound of the gunfire from outside, she remained silent while Jack swiftly put on his everyday shoes from the nearby closet, and grabbed his weapon.

"Lock the doors", he instructed sternly as he rushed outside.

Once he was gone, Elizabeth said a silent prayer for his safety before she let out a huge sigh of sexual frustration and wondered why she had ever married a Mountie.

 **Up next: Chapter 5**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Storm

**Chapter 5 -The Storm**

Elizabeth jumped out of bed and quickly locked the back door as Jack hurried down the alley in search of the reason for the gunshot.

She stood by the side of the window, keeping herself protected by the wall. Pushing aside an inch of the curtain's thick fabric, she leaned forward and peeked out the glass. Anxiously scanning the darkness for any sign of activity.

Nothing.

There were no more gunshots, and Jack was nowhere in her view.

Whatever was going on wasn't happening in the alley that ran behind her home.

"Shhh" she ordered in a hiss when Rip whined to be let outside to follow his master.

Elizabeth glanced at Thatch. _He's fine in the center of the bed. Little thing can't roll yet_ , she thought before she hurried out of the bedroom.

* * *

Five minutes later, Elizabeth was back in bed with her little boy.

A peek – a long four-minute peek- out the front room window had satisfied her that Jack was unharmed and would be coming home safely.

Although she was disappointed with the view and had had to strain her neck to see down the street, it was enough of a view to figure out what had happened.

From her vantage point, Elizabeth had gathered that two men, who she couldn't get make out enough to identify, were angry about something or other, and they wanted Jack to do something about it. Several other men were standing around watching Jack handle things.

 _This investigative thing is harder than it looks!_

When she had finally seen Jack put his hands on each man's shoulder and make them shake hands with each other, Elizabeth had allowed herself to breathe easily, and return to the bedroom.

She now sat up in bed, her back propped against two feather-filled pillows, with Thatch sleeping next to her. The little boy was wearing a pale blue nightshirt sent by Elizabeth's mother who had likely purchased it in one of the finest stores in Hamilton.

Elizabeth gazed at the boy's long eyelashes and his tiny mouth. His lips were slightly parted as if he was having a dream about nursing or maybe imagining that he was getting ready to say his first words. His dark hair was almost perfectly in order, with just the hint of a cowlick. She wondered if he'd be the spitting image of Jack when he grew up.

 _Jack._

She thought about him outside as he calmed down the men. There was a time when she would have cried with worry over his safety. She still worried. Just not as much.

The days when she didn't think she was brave enough to be married to him seemed so long ago.

Elizabeth knew that he was good at his job, and that he had quickly earned the respect of the citizens of Bear Creek. Despite any heated arguments or drunken rages, the men in town would listen to Jack. For that reason, she didn't worry about him as much as she might under other circumstances.

When he had come home from his last long trip, hobbling with a cane and his body full of stitches, she had pushed down her fears. What was done was done. He had been injured but he had made it home to her. Just as he always promised. It wasn't the easiest life. But it was their life.

Elizabeth lightly ran her hand across the boy's soft brown hair.

"Don't you ever go off and become a Mountie like your father", she quietly instructed him. "I can't handle worrying about both of you."

* * *

"Coffee smells good", Jack remarked as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. He pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders and then picked the pot off the stove.

He poured himself a cup of the hot brewed coffee and took a long sip.

Elizabeth smiled as she picked up a pan from the stove. She tilted it, allowing the mixture of sliced potatoes, onions, and eggs to fall onto the two plates on the counter. "You must be tired after last night. Are you sure there won't be any more trouble day?"

"Nah. Things should be fine. As long as no more cattle die."

Jack had come home last night feeling irritated that some of the ranchers were arguing among themselves after an evening at the Saloon. Things had gotten so bad, with accusations of incompetent ranching skills, that Mr. Clemson had fired a warning shot in the air after one of the men had suggested that they all head to the Clemson and Perkingens ranches and slaughter the herds before their own cattle could be infected.

"But you said Mr. Fonde also had a sick steer. That's the third rancher."

"We're not sure if its the same disease. As long as everyone maintains their cool until I figure out what's going on, things will be fine," Jack remarked as he sat down at the kitchen table.

* * *

Elizabeth was infuriated. She felt a tempest brewing inside of her. A tempest started by the banker.

Mr. Sanders had gone too far.

 _Maintain your cool. Maintain your cool,_ she told herself as she stormed down the street on Saturday afternoon. She carried her small basket with grocery items across one arm and the object of her irritation in her left hand.

Elizabeth, her eyes narrowed in anger, fought the temptation to crumple up the sheet of paper Mr. Sanders had given her, and resigned herself to at least look at it again.

 _I can't believe he gave me a list of books he wants banned from the town's library!_

Elizabeth's eyes scrolled down the typed list.

She recognized about half of the books on the paper. She had read, and actually enjoyed, several of them. Two of them she had skimmed and found that they weren't her taste, but that was no reason for them to be banned she realized. One of the books was by D.H. Lawrence, which she knew her Aunt Agatha would find dreadfully torrid and, therefore, the older woman would absolutely love it.

 _I'm going to read every single one of these books!_

* * *

"Read me the list", Jack said as he finished looking through the mail and set it aside on the coffee table.

Elizabeth had spent five minutes ranting about Mr. Sanders' demands before Jack could get a word in.

"Madame Bovary, Fanny Hill -"

"I've never heard of them. What are they about?"

"Let's just say they're Aunt Agatha's style."

"Ahh. I see what you're saying. They're full of lots of - . Never mind. What else is on the list."

"The Origins of Species"

"By Charles Darwin? That's science", Jack remarked in surprise.

"I know. This list is incredible. Anything that man doesn't want anyone else to think about is on the list. 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' because it has talking animals. The 'Rights of Man' by Thomas Paine because it advocates that the government's purpose is to safeguard the inalienable rights of citizens. 'Frankenstein' –

"Frankenstein? Isn't that the book about the doctor who creates a monster?"

"Yes. It's by a female author. Mr. Sanders wants it banned because he says that its wrong for someone to portray a man making a creature because only God can do that."

"You've got to be kidding me? It's a fictional story. About a monster. It's not supposed to be taken as fact. It's a horror book."

"He also wants 'The Wonderful Wizard of O'" banned because of the talking lion and because it allows inanimate creatures to speak like men even though they don't have a brain and a heart. He's got a reason to ban anything he doesn't like. If its message isn't the same political, moral, religious, or social message he wants, he wants the book banned."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet."

"He said he'd only give you the donation if you don't have any of those books?"

"He was very clear about that."

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

"We can only afford a certain number of books for the new library. And without his donation, we won't be able to get any more. And he won't donate unless I agree to the list."

"So you either succumb to his tactics or you don't get your library."

"Oh, no. I'm not about to succumb. AND I am going to get my library", Elizabeth said with determination. "Now, no more talk about Mr. Sanders, tell me about your day while I start dinner."

* * *

Two hours later, Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. She had spent the last ten minutes searching in the closet, under couch pillows, under the couch itself, and in the cupboards.

The skein of blue yarn was gone.

 _I just bought it the other day!_

"Jack! Did you move my blue yarn?"

Jack, wiping his hands on a dishrag, walked in from the kitchen and stood by the couch looking at a frazzled Elizabeth. "No, did you leave it in the bedroom?"

"I wasn't knitting in the bedroom", she grumbled.

"I'm sure it will turn up."

"That's what you said last time. I give up. I keep misplacing it. I must be losing my mind."

"You've got plenty of yarn", he said as he looked at her open basket.

"But not blue."

"Why do you need blue? What are you making?"

"I'm making a little sweater for the new baby. I thought it'd be nice for him to have at least one new item instead of wearing all of Thatch's hand-me-downs."

"What makes you think we're having another son? I thought you wanted a girl."

Elizabeth stopped rummaging through her basket and looked at Jack. "A girl would be great. But your mom had two sons. Our first born is a boy. I'm thinking maybe you're destined to be a father of boys. Of course, Lucy says we're having a girl."

Jack smirked. "This I gotta hear. Why does Lucy think we're having a girl?"

"Where do I even begin?"

"That looney?"

"I was over at her house yesterday and she gave me a glass of water. Filled with sugar and salt without telling me. I practically gagged when I took a sip. She was trying to figure out if I'm having a boy or a girl by which I noticed first – the sweet or the salty taste."

"What'd you notice first?"

"The sweet."

"So what does that mean?"

"At first, she thought it meant we were having a girl. Because girls are sweet and would like to drink sweet things. But then she thought she remembered that it meant we were having a boy. Because opposites attract and a boy baby would be wanting something sweet because he's salty enough."

"So we're having a boy?"

"No. The more she tried to remember how the wives' tale went, the more unsure she was. She kept going back and forth trying to remember the folklore correctly. And she had me to take another sip to make sure I had really tasted sweet more than salty"

"Did you?"

"All I could think about was how disgusting it tasted. Then Lucy remembered that it doesn't mean either a boy or a girl and it's actually a cure for indigestion."

Jack chuckled. "So why does she think we're having a girl?"

"She had me roll a die. It came up as an even number. She says that means a girl."

"Okay, so totally ignoring Lucy, we still don't know what we're having."

"We don't. And I'm just going to forget about knitting tonight."

"Why don't you read? How's that book you've been reading? The one Mr. Sanders frowned at."

"It's called 'Germinal'. It's on his banned book list. It's horribly depressing. It's about a young migrant coal miner."

"You know a little bit about coal miners."

Elizabeth nodded. "All the workers are desperately poor and there's a love triangle. And a coal miners' strike. Then there's this awful violence and rioting. That's the part I was reading last night. I understand why Mr. Sanders thinks it should be banned."

"Why?"

"Because it shows the plight of the poor. The workers who are mistreated and barely make a living. The greed of some people. Mr. Sanders doesn't want to be compared to one of the characters – greedy and heartless. He makes Mr. Gowen look like a benevolent father. These coal miners remind me of the families back in Coal Valley."

"They had it pretty bad."

"I can't stand the idea of what it must have been like for them to go down into the dark dampness every day. I did it for two days when the widows were trying to save their houses and that was enough for me. I couldn't wait to get back above ground and embrace the sun's warmth. And a bath. Thanks goodness, I'm a school teacher."

"Elizabeth." Jack grew quiet for moment and stared at the dishrag in his hand before continuing.

"What's up?"

"I know you really want a library, but we can't afford to put in any more of our money", he said guiltily. "I know I've told you that we could live off of my salary, but with another baby on the way and not knowing if you'll have a new job at my next assignment." Jack paused for a moment before continuing. " And actually, you probably won't now that we'll have two kids."

"I've been thinking the same thing. Two babies and moving to a new town. I won't be able to find a job."

"I'm sorry."

Elizabeth looked at Jack's forlorn face. "Jack! I won't _want_ to find a job", she said reassuringly. "I think that I want to stay home with these little ones for a while. We'll just have to watch our pennies."

"We'll be fine. It's just that we won't be able to donate any more money to this library."

"I know and I don't want to ask my family for money. That's why I was so grateful for Mr. Sanders expected donation", she said with a frown.

"Maybe some other donations will come in. You wrote a lot of letters."

Elizabeth sighed. "Maybe."

She reached down to Thatch who was joyfully rolling over on the rug at her feet. "Come here my cute roly poly."

"I've got another idea! I'm going to enter that poetry contest!" Elizabeth said with sudden excitement as she held Thatch on her lap.

"I thought it was a children's contest."

"There's a category for adults. And top prize is forty dollars. I can buy at least twenty books with that!"

"If you win."

"If I win."

Elizabeth got a look of determination on her face. " _When_ I win."

* * *

The night air was hot. Heavy. Sticky.

It smelled like a storm was coming.

Jack had gone back to the jailhouse to catch up on some work, leaving Elizabeth sitting in bed, her back propped against two pillows, reading a book. She was reading as many books as she could in the days leading up to stocking the library. Unfortunately, tonight's was a murder mystery. She knew that it wasn't a good idea to read a mystery when Jack wasn't home - it always spooked her - but once she started reading, she couldn't stop. And with Thatch fast asleep and Jack not home, it was the perfect opportunity.

Elizabeth heard a noise outside her window, followed by the distance roll of thunder. Comet, who was lying next to her, perked up her head and concentrated her green eyes towards the window.

Elizabeth first glanced at the window and then looked around the room. She didn't expect to see anything amiss and she was glad that she didn't.

 _Just a storm coming. Perhaps the wind blowing something in the alley._

 _Or causing a loose shutter to bang against a building._

The storm was too far off to cause her any concern so she pulled her covers a bit snugger and returned her attention to the book on her lap.

Ten minutes later, the crack of lightning caused her to jump.

She thought she heard a noise coming from outside and she strained her ears.

Listening.

Hearing nothing, she slowly climbed out of bed. Quietly, she put on her robe and slippers and walked the few steps to the back door.

She leaned her body against the wooden door and whispered.

"Jack?"

"Jack? Are you out there?"

She waited for an answer but the night air was still.

Despite calling his name, Elizabeth didn't expect Jack to be outside the door. There was no reason for him to be at the back door when the jailhouse was across the street from the front of the mercantile. But still, she reasoned, maybe he was on rounds in the alley and decided to stop by and check on her.

The feeling of something brushing against her leg caused her to jump and catch her breath.

 _Comet!_ she thought in frustration as she let out her breath and watched the animal sit down next to her.

The cat sat still, like a sentry helping Elizabeth guard the bedroom and the baby.

"Hello? Is somebody out there?" Elizabeth boldly called.

She could feel her heart pounding as she tried to think of what to do.

The sound of something rapping against the window caused Elizabeth to shriek.

She took a deep breath when she realized it was only the start of the rain. The wind pelting the drops of water against the glass.

Elizabeth jumped again when she heard the sound of thunder; it was closer this time.

 _It's just a storm_. She glanced over at the baby, who was sleeping soundly. _Sleeping like a baby_ , she thought with a small smile.

Moving away from the door, she stood by his crib for a moment, gazing down at his sweet body, and then placing her hand gently on his stomach. Feeling his soft breathing. Finally, she turned and started walking the few paces to bed.

* * *

The twisting of door knob caused Elizabeth to freeze in place. She held her breath as she stared at the brass doorknob. Watching it slowly turn from side to side.

It stopped moving, and she desperately hoped that she had simply imagined it moving.

Then it moved again.

"Elizabeth", the voice whispered. "Unlock the door, it's me."

"Oh my goodness, you scared me half to death!" Elizabeth hurried across the room and put her hand on the key. She stopped herself just before she started to turn it.

"Jack, is it really you?" she hissed.

"Yes, it's me. And I'm sopping wet from running across the street in the rain. I'm dripping all over the floor. Open up."

Feeling stupid for being scared, and detecting a slight irritation in Jack's voice, Elizabeth quickly let him into the room.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. Is everything okay?" Jack pulled off his wet shirt kicked off his shoes, and stripped off his pants.

"I thought I heard something outside. In the alley."

"There's a storm going on."

"I know. It just scared me. I was reading a mystery book."

"I told you to stop reading those at night."

"I was reading poetry first but that was just as scary."

"Everything is scary to you when you're alone at night and there's a storm outside."

Jack, wearing just his underclothes, went to the window and checked the latch. "Is the back door locked?"

"Yes. I locked it before I came to bed."

"How's Thatch?", Jack asked quietly as he moved over to the crib and looked at his son laying comfortably asleep.

"Sound asleep."

Jack bent down and replaced the thin blanket that Thatch had kicked off. He bent down and lovingly kissed his son lightly on the head before turning towards Elizabeth.

"Come on. Let's go to bed. Everything's fine. It's just a bad storm. I'll hold you."

"I'm fine", Elizabeth declared, feeling chastised by Jack and trying to hide her embarrassment at being frightened by a storm.

"Okay. Then you can hold me", Jack declared casually as he crawled into bed.

* * *

Outside, the storm raged on. The hard rain pelted the ground and quickly turned the ruts in the streets into deep puddles. The farmer's fields, already soft from days of plowing, became even softer with the torrential downpour.

At Mr. Fonde's ranch, a steer's powerful legs unnaturally stiffened and then twitched for a moment before the animal fell. He was dead before his heavy body hit the ground.

Ten seconds later, a second steer fell; his dead body making a deep impression in the rain-soaked grass.

 **Up next: Chapter 6**


	6. Chapter 6 - The Contagion

**Chapter 6 – The Contagion**

The click-click sound of the typewriter fascinated the baby. He sat on Elizabeth's lap, his little back propped against her chest, watching the machine. Elizabeth firmly pressed the "e" key causing the type-bar to hit the ribbon of inked fabric, which then made a printed mark of the alphabet letter on the paper that was wrapped around the metal cylinder.

"Done", she announced to the baby. Elizabeth pulled the paper out of the typewriter and reviewed it one more time.

 _He Rides Away From Me by Elizabeth Thornton_

 _He rides away from me with excitement and a longing to see the world._

 _To trod across the fallen leaves and through the creek; the creek that trickles in the summer and rages in_ _the spring when the melted snow overflows its banks._

 _He rides away from me._

 _To canter through the fields with their tall grasses swaying in the wind and brushing against the_ _underside of his horse._

 _To follow the white tail of deer before bedding down beneath a ceiling of stars._

 _They ask me how; the neighbors and family ask me how I get through each day._

 _How I let him go in his red wool jacket and his tall leather boots to places I have never seen and dangers_ _I have never known. To follow his dream while I remain behind._

 _He has my heart, I tell them. That's why I let him go. That's why I wait for him. Because he has my heart._

 _They scoff at my simple answer. Thinking it is not enough._

 _But I know something more._

 _He rides away from me with promises that he'll always return._

 _And I believe him. My heart believes his promise._

Folding the sheet of paper, Elizabeth kissed it for luck. She placed the poem and her entry form into the envelope, after first prying the envelope out of her baby's mouth. She licked the adhesive strip, realized with a slight amount of disgust that it was already full of spit from the baby's mouth, and sealed it with a happy hopeful smile.

She had just enough time to mail the letter before heading to school.

* * *

Elizabeth was just leaving the post office after mailing her poetry contest entry to The Toronto Globe, when she passed Mr. Sanders on the steps.

"Mrs. Thornton", he said curtly with a nod of his head.

"Mr. Sanders", she replied coldly.

"Have you reviewed the list of inappropriate reading material I gave you the other day?"

"I have." Elizabeth didn't make any attempt to smile.

She would be cordial to the man but there was no reason why she had to pretend to like him. She had met men like him before. Men who thought they were morally superior to others by virtue of their wealth; in reality their morals often seemed to change depending on whether or not money was involved. Cash quickly had a way of changing their outlook on what was acceptable.

"I have the check already written out. Once you agree to my terms, I will be happy to hand it over to you", the banker informed her.

"No, thank you. Mr. Sanders. I would greatly appreciate your donation, but if you don't feel that you can donate without setting guidelines, then we will fill our library without your help."

Mr. Sanders scowled in disgust. "Some of those books should not be printed. They're offensive."

"If all printers were determined not to print anything till they were sure it would offend nobody, there would be very little printed."

"Those are pretty arrogant words for a poor school teacher who desperately needs my help to get her library."

"If you read more, you'd realize they weren't my words. I was quoting Benjamin Franklin." Elizabeth replied, now with a smile. "Good day, Mr. Sanders."

* * *

Elizabeth's smile didn't last long.

It was turning out to be anything but a good day for Elizabeth.

After leaving the post office, she had stopped by Lucy's house in the hopes that her friend could watch Thatch for the morning.

As much as Elizabeth loved having her son with her, he had been a handful of exuberant squirming boy all through breakfast. His adorable screams of glee when Rip licked him, when Comet clawed her way up the curtains, and when his fistful of oatmeal had landed on Jack's shoulder, showed no signs of slowing down. Not to mention that his little hands had managed to pull her hair combs from her hair three times, until Elizabeth finally gave up wearing them.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I can't", Lucy explained to a disappointed Elizabeth.

"Michael's going to Somerset this morning and he's taking me and Maddy with him. We're going to do some shopping, and Michael's taking us to a nice restaurant. Michael said maybe we can see a moving picture! With an organ player right there in the audience with us to make the music! I've never seen a movie before. Gosh, can you imagine? A moving picture. And Michael said it won't matter if Maddy gets fussy because it's not like a play where the actors actually talk. It's more like a book you read to yourself except you see it happening for real. Not just in your mind. It's all silent."

Lucy continued to excitedly ramble on as she gathered the morning eggs from her hens and Elizabeth tried to keep a squirming Little Jack from eating a chicken feather that had landed on him.

"Except for the organ player. there's no sound. And Maddy won't bother the organ player even if he does cry. And he won't cry anyway. It's a moving picture! Elizabeth! Gosh, do you think people will stop reading books now that we having moving pictures?"

* * *

Elizabeth, walking to the school house with her son on her hip, was contemplating Lucy's silly idea that people would watch moving pictures rather than reading books, when the voice took her by surprise.

"Sock."

"Excuse me?"

"Sock", the man, carrying a crate of supplies, repeated as he nodded to the street and kept walking.

A confused Elizabeth first looked down at her own legs and then noticed the small blue sock on the ground. She picked up tiny knitted item and, looking to her son's feet, was surprised that both feet were bare. His ten little toes wiggling happily back and forth.

Looking down the street, Elizabeth spotted his other sock ten feet behind her. Thatch, or Little Jack as Elizabeth preferred to call him, had recently discovered some great joy in taking off his socks every time Elizabeth's eyes weren't staring at them.

As she retrieved the other sock from a muddy puddle, Elizabeth overheard snippets of conversation from a small group of people walking by her.

Another steer had been found dead. Mr. Fonde had come across the large animal, its legs stiffened in the odd angle where he had fallen, in his grassy field.

All the ranchers were now worried. Not just the ranchers. Some of the townspeople were worried about their own health and if the cattle disease could spread to humans.

* * *

"Mrs. Thornton, I don't want to sit next to Billy," whined ten-year old Steven Bradshaw as he refused to take his seat in the classroom after recess.

Elizabeth set the baby into his bassinet and looked quickly at her blouse. She was happy to see that she had remembered to properly button it after Little Jack had nursed while the children had been playing outside. -There was no need for a repeat of last week. – But she was dismayed to find that the baby had spit up on her shoulder.

"For heaven's sake, why not? You always sit next to Billy. You sat next to him before recess", she said as she wiped the wet spot with her handkerchief.

"He's got sick cows at his ranch. I don't want to catch his germs and die."

"You are not going to catch his germs and die. You're not a cow. Now sit down", Elizabeth instructed as she looked around the classroom and noticed the town children warily eyeing the children from the ranches.

"Pa said the steer died with their eyes wide open!", one boy piped up and the rest of children then started volunteering their own bits of wisdom.

"My Pa said the Clemson herd started it all!"

"Can cows murder each other, Mrs. Thornton?"

"Maybe they'll all start dying and there won't be any place to bury them."

"Where do they bury cows, Mrs. Thornton?"

"Will there be funerals? I want to go to a cow funeral!"

"If we have a cow funeral, can we sing Old McDonald had a farm?"

"Children!" Elizabeth said loudly over the clatter of voices. "We don't know what killed the steer. It could be they were just old, or maybe they ate a poisonous plant. Most likely they died of fright. We've had some bad storms. Any rancher will tell you that cattle are very scared of thunderstorms. A few dead cattle are nothing for you to worry about. Mountie Jack will figure it out."

"We ate bacon from the Clemsons for breakfast. I don't feel so good, Mrs. Thornton", Lisa Anne called out.

"Bacon comes from hogs, not cows, Lisa Anne. You are not sick."

"Don't you care if we get sick?"

"Of course, I care if you get sick. But you are not sick. None of you are sick. We're not going to get caught up in some hysteria over the cattle."

 _For goodness sakes, when did recess turn into rumor spreading time?_

"Now, let's think about why type of books we want to order for our library", she suggested in a hurry to change the topic and get focused on more important things.

'Yes, Jillian?" Elizabeth questioned when the little girl raised her hand.

"We won't need a library if we are all dead from sick cattle", the girl said with an air of confidence.

* * *

When Jack had come home hours later, a tired Elizabeth had taken one look at his clothes and sighed with frustration.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. The fields were wet and I slipped in a patch of mud", Jack said apologetically as he took off his muddied pants and tossed them onto the floor.

"I'll get to them after dinner", she replied as she closed the oven door. "It won't be ready for at least forty minutes. The oven went out and it was at least twenty minutes until I noticed it."

"How was your day?"

"Awful. I got _one_ donation for the library. One book."

"Don't lose hope. If anyone can start a library, it's you."

Elizabeth looked at Jack as he unbuttoned his shirt; its one sleeve was covered in mud from the elbow to the cuff. Jack pulled off the garment and threw it onto his discarded pants while he made smiling faces across the room at Thatch who was in his playpen.

The longing to touch Jack came upon Elizabeth out of nowhere.

 _Okay, it didn't come out of nowhere. It came from looking at those muscled arms_. _Gosh, I love his arms_.

Wearing nothing but his undergarments, Jack went to the icebox and took out the pitcher of lemonade. He poured himself a glass and leaned against the counter.

"What?" he asked when he saw Elizabeth staring at him when he took a sip of the cool liquid.

Elizabeth made a deep sigh of lust which Jack misinterpreted as he looked at his clothes in the corner.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked. "Are you mad about the mud?"

'It's been a while."

"A while since what?" he asked warily as she continued to look at him.

Elizabeth didn't answer. Instead she glanced at the oven and then at Thatch, who was now occupying himself by attempting to eat his toes.

Jack chuckled when he saw Elizabeth begin to unbutton her blouse and he realized what she was thinking.

"Isn't hasn't been _awhile_. I think sometimes your assessment of time is a little strange", he said with a broad grin.

Elizabeth didn't say anything but pulled her blouse out from her skirt's waistband and undid another button.

"Not that I'm complaining." Jack set down his glass and moved a few steps towards Elizabeth. "Let me do that for you", he said in a low voice as his demeanor changed from humor to serious.

He began slowly unbuttoning the remainder of her blouse. "You're sweating", he said as noticed her skin glistening from the heat of being near the oven.

"Hmmm"

"I think we should get out of the kitchen." Jack moved his mouth along Elizabeth's neck and then possessively took her mouth with his.

A whimper escaped from Elizabeth as Jack pressed his body against hers.

 _Oh, how I love this feeling,_ she thought as his hands moved along her torso.

Her arms encircled his back and she grabbed hold of the cloth of his undershirt. She moved her mouth off of his just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, messing up his hair.

She adored how he looked with his hair ruffled over his forehead; full of boyish charm. It made her tremble in all the right places.

Jack took his mouth off hers and took her hand in his, leading her to the bedroom.

* * *

Elizabeth was gently bouncing Little Jack on her lap and reading the newspaper, enjoying a nice cup of tea after dinner, when her eyes were drawn to a story on the third page, just above a large advertisement for women's boots.

"Jack, did you see this in the paper?"

Jack, ten feet away, continued hammering nails in the home's loose floorboard, hoping to stop the creaking when it was stepped on.

"Is it about that poetry contest you want the students to enter with you?" he mumbled, being careful not to drop the nail which he was holding in his mouth.

"No. We entered already. This is about the cattle problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look", she instructed as she crossed the room, put the paper in front of his face, obscuring his view of the nail which was only partially driven into the floor.

"I thought you wanted this floorboard fixed", he mumbled.

"Read it."

"Women's Boots are on sale", he said as he took the nail from his mouth.

"Above that!"

Jack sat back on his haunches and picked up the newspaper from the floor in front of him.

Two minutes later, Jack lowered the paper and looked at Elizabeth.

"That could be like here" she explained in case Jack hadn't grasped the full scope of the article. "A calf was sold from the stock of a rancher in North Brookfield, Ontario and it was shown to be diseased. The ranch was put under sanitary restrictions, but it was too late. The contagion had already spread to neighboring herds."

"I read it, Elizabeth", Jack said with a small smile. "But North Brookfield is nowhere near us."

"But Jack, the Commissioners ordered not only the destruction of all animals with evidence of infection but also those that may have been exposed. Over 500 head of cattle were destroyed."

"I read that", he said with a frown.

Jack sat down more comfortably on the floor and contemplated the article. "With fewer cattle going to market, the price of beef has already gone up two cents per pound. And it will keep going up if more cattle are killed for fear of being diseased."

"Do you think that the Clemson, Perkingen, and Fonde cattle are contagious with the same disease? That's why they've been dying?"

Elizabeth words were directed to Jack but she was now focusing most of her attention on the baby as she made exaggerated smiling faces at him, causing him to smile back.

"It seems possible."

"By how is it being spread from herd to herd? We're nowhere near North Brookfield; you just said that yourself."

"It could be spread by bird or flying insect. Feeding off the dung in one field and they traveling to another field", Jack replied as he thought more about the situation.

"By why are only some dying?"

"Probably some in the herd are stronger. All the cattle in one herd may have been infected at approximately the same time, but the weaker ones die first. Chances are that they'll all fall ill. In time. If we don't figure out what's killing them. And how to stop it."

"Poor animals."

Jack looked glum. "The ranchers aren't going to be happy about this. Let's hope no more die. If we're dealing with a contagious disease like in North Brookfield, all the cattle will have to be slaughtered."

Elizabeth stopped laughing with the baby and gently pulled a lock of her hair out of his tightly clenched fist as she thought about the cattle.

"Jack, it doesn't matter if they're all killed by disease or even if they're ordered to be slaughtered", she said pensively.

Elizabeth had spent years at her family's large dining room's cherry wood table, politely listening to her father and fancy dinner guests discuss business over plates of poached salmon and steamed asparagus with almonds, chateaubriand and divinely-cut potatoes, peach melba and brandy. Despite the perceived idea that the women at the table were bored by the men's conversations, Elizabeth had often listened with one ear to the women's talk of fashion and running a household, and the other ear to the men's talk of profits, market prices, and cost overruns.

"It doesn't matter if many more are found diseased", she repeated.

"What do you mean? Of course, it matters."

"It's like the baby's socks."

Jack gave Elizabeth a puzzled look. "Excuse me?"

"He had a pair of blue socks on today. But one got muddy. I couldn't put it back on him until I washed it. I had an extra pair of green ones at the schoolhouse But I didn't want to put on the cleaner blue one with a green one because it would be mismatched."

"So?"

"So I put both blue socks aside and he wore the green pair. Even though only one of the blue socks was muddy."

"Elizabeth, you know I love you. But sometimes, you make no sense to me."

"Don't you understand? Not everything has to be tainted for everything to be set aside!"

Jack shook his head and chuckled. "You say the cutest things that still make no sense to me. I have no idea what blue and green socks have to do with cattle."

"It doesn't matter if many more cattle in Bear Creek die. When the Commissioners hear of it, which they will if any more die, they'll order a quarantine. The ranchers will be forbidden from selling their cattle until after the quarantine expires. That can be months. It's like when merchandise sits idly in a warehouse and can't be moved to the stores for some reason. It can ruin a business that doesn't have a lot of cash on hand. A government imposed slaughter would obviously financially ruin the ranchers, but so would just a quarantine."

"You're right", Jack said slowly. "The damage is already done. It doesn't matter if the disease kills the whole herd. None will be able to be sold. A quarantine will be devastating to the ranchers."

"And it will make those not affected by the quarantine very wealthy. They'll be able to demand whatever prices they want while our ranchers sit by helplessly. Jack, you have to do something to stop the disease before a quarantine is imposed. It will ruin Bear Creek."

* * *

That night as Elizabeth lay in bed, she thought about the poem she had written. About Jack often riding away to face unknown dangers.

It was too dark to see Jack's stitched skin and the scars which were forming from the injuries he had received weeks earlier; the deep gashes made when he had been attacked by the crazed mountain man.

It didn't matter that Elizabeth couldn't see the scars tonight in bed; she knew where each one was. How long they were. How deep they were.

She had tenderly changed the dressings countless times.

She thought about how Jack carried a weapon. How he dealt with angry men who carried their own weapons.

She thought about raging rivers, hungry wolves, and angry rattlesnakes; the dangers that a Mountie faced.

Elizabeth now smiled a little in relief. _Cows. That's easy enough to deal with. No danger can come to Jack dealing with cattle._

 _Yes, thank goodness, it's just livestock this time._

 _He's perfectly safe,_ she thought as she quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.

 **Up next: Chapter 7**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Tote Bag

**Chapter 7 – The Tote Bag**

"Jack, I figured it out!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she walked in the mercantile-house door the next afternoon. The jingling of the bell announced her entrance even if she hadn't excitedly spoken. "Where have you been?! I've been all over town looking for you."

Jack was sitting on the couch, a boot in one hand and a rag with shoe polish in the other.

"I was sending some telegrams and then was talking to some of the men and Dr. Hudson about the disease. Doc is going to try to figure out what it is and how it's being spread. What's going on?"

"I figured it out!"

"Figured out what?"

"Why the cattle are dying."

"What are you talking about? What disease do they have?"

"They don't have a disease! They're being poisoned."

"By some kind of plants in the area?"

"Not plants! Someone is deliberating poisoning them!"

A line appeared between his brows as Jack gave her a quizzical look. "Who? Why? What are you talking about?"

"It's just like _The Laboratory._ Only instead of the victim being a love rival, it's cattle rival! Don't you see? Instead of an apothecary, it's Bear Creek!" Elizabeth said excitedly. She set the baby into his playpen, and hurriedly removed her shawl.

"What is the Laboratory? And what poison? And what love rival? And what apothecary?"

"Jack, don't you listen to me when I read poetry to you?"

"No."

"Jack!"

"It's boring", he admitted with a shrug.

Elizabeth made an exasperated sigh and then hurried to the bedroom.

She returned a moment later with a book of poetry, and opened the pages to the section by Robert Browning.

Jack listened patiently as he continued to run a cloth along the top of his boot while Elizabeth read aloud the poem to him.

"There you have it!" she exclaimed as she finished reading and slammed the book shut.

"There I have what?"

"The answer to the mystery of how the cattle are getting sick! They're being poisoned!"

"And you got that from a 19th century poem about a woman who wants to kill her husband's lover?"

"She wants to kill her rival." Elizabeth frowned for a moment. "And apparently, some other woman too . . . but that's beside the point."

"What _is_ the point? Other than I should never cheat on you because you may go to an apothecary and order a small vial of poison", he chuckled.

Elizabeth scoffed at his laughing.

"Jealously! Envy! Greed! Money! "

"You're going to have to explain more than that to this simple country boy", he teased.

"In the poem, the woman is at the apothecary watching the man behind the counter make up a poison so she can kill her husband's lover. She wants what the other person has – her husband! "

"So?"

"In Bear Creek, someone wants the cattle dead so that their cattle will bring a higher price. You said it yourself; if the cattle have to be destroyed, it will drive up the price of cattle elsewhere. Just like in that article we read."

"But those cattle in North Brookfield had a contagious disease. They weren't poisoned."

"Don't you see?! That's what the culprit is counting on."

"The culprit?" Jack raised his eyes and smiled at Elizabeth's word choice.

"The culprit. The bad guy. Whatever you call him." Elizabeth said in exasperation as she comprehended that Jack wasn't totally taking her seriously. "He's counting on everyone thinking that these cattle in Bear Creek are like the infected cattle in other areas."

"But all the cattle in Bear Creek aren't dying. Just a few at each ranch. So, is this culprit going to poison every head of cattle?"

"We talked about that before! They don't have to all get sick. Just enough that there's a suspicion that they're contagious with something. The rest will not be allowed to be sold at market. They'll be quarantined for weeks, until after the cattle drives, or they'll be slaughtered. And if it's going on here, it might be going on in other towns too. Don't you see, no one would question too much about Bear Creek's dead steer. They'll just assume it's a contagious disease like in North Brookfield. They won't suspect poison. A few dead cattle, and the Commissioners will react and quarantine or order the slaughter of the herds."

"And?"

"The prices of cattle will rise and someone with healthy cattle will make a fortune."

Jack paused with his boot in his hand and looked at Elizabeth with a curious expression.

"Well?!" she finally asked. "Doesn't it make sense? It's why whole herds aren't sick, and why it's happened to three separate ranches."

"I think you're actually on to something", he said with a hint of amazement in his voice.

Elizabeth, thrilled with herself, sat down, and let out a deep sigh of happiness.

"But who?" Jack wondered aloud. "Who is poisoning the cattle? No one in Bear Creek will be allowed to sell. Who stands to gain?"

"Hmm. I haven't figured out that yet."

"How about we leave that part to me? You know, because _I'm_ the Mountie."

"You always say we make a good team."

"I have said that. But I've also said that I want you safe and alive."

"How about alive and excited by a mystery?" Elizabeth countered hopefully.

"How about alive and safe at home?" Jack said sternly.

"Jack!"

"You are a mother and pregnant with our next baby", he reminded her. "I want you alive and safe _at home_. Let me handle this."

Jack looked firmly at Elizabeth when she didn't answer.

"Elizabeth", he said seriously.

"Fine."

* * *

"What about that drifter that was in town earlier this month," Elizabeth asked as she passed Jack a bowl filled with buttered peas.

They were sitting at the table having dinner. Or at least attempting to have dinner while keeping their son's hands out of the mashed potatoes which now seemed to have found their way down Elizabeth's blouse, into her hair, and onto the floor.

"He was only in town for a day."

"Why was he in town?"

"He didn't say", Jack answered as he took a bite of chicken.

"Didn't you ask him", Elizabeth asked in surprise.

"I did. He was evasive and I didn't see any reason to push it since he was leaving and I wasn't suspecting anyone of poisoning the cattle at that time. I personally watched him board the train. Whoever is poisoning the cattle has done it over a few days' time."

"But maybe the drifter brought the poison to town! I read about something similar in a book! This shifty character came to a new town and brought his stolen goods with him to hide. Maybe the shifty drifter –"

"I never said he was shifty. He was evasive."

"Same thing", she said hurriedly. "You said he was evasive about why he was in town. And think about. If someone wanted the poison they wouldn't want to just buy it here. And if they ordered through the mail, the postman would remember a package and where it was from. You know the postmaster is nosy. It would be much better for someone to personally deliver the poison."

Jack set down his fork. "You have a point. But I thought you were going to let me handle this", he reminded her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm helping you. More chicken?"

Elizabeth handed the platter of fried chicken to Jack. "What do you know about Mr. Sanders?"

"The new banker? Other than he is standoffish, he hasn't done anything to make me question him."

"I don't like him."

"That's because he won't donate to your library. That's not reason enough to think he'd be poisoning cattle. What would he have to gain from that?"

"That's what I need to figure out."

"I mean that's what _you_ need to figure out", she added quickly when she saw Jack's face with his eyebrows raised sternly at her again.

"Elizabeth", he said dragging her name out in a warning.

* * *

Elizabeth had spent the next day so busy with classwork and the library that she had no time to give a thought to Jack's investigation of the poisoned cattle.

Not that Jack would have noticed. He was so busy interviewing people, sending telegrams, and investigating the situation, that he hadn't even come home for lunch and had told Elizabeth not to expect him for dinner until later than usual. Which is why she was walking alone, struggling with the object in her arms.

The box of books was heavier than she had expected. When Elizabeth had picked it up at the post office along with a stack of letters, she hoped that she'd easily be able to carry it to the schoolhouse by herself. She could have waited for Jack to come home but by then the post office would have been closed for the day.

She was too eager to see what the box contained to wait until tomorrow. She had decided that a little huffing from exertion and sore arms was worth it as she carried the weighty box to the teacherage.

As she set the box down in front of the school building's back door, she glanced again at the return address label and felt giddy.

It was getting dim and she fumbled for a moment with putting the key into the lock.

 _Darn it_ , she cursed as she dropped the key.

Elizabeth paused when she heard the noise.

She looked in the direction of the sound, expecting to see one of the town citizens walking along, perhaps hurrying home with ingredients for a dinner, and was surprised that no one was there.

 _Just my imagination_ , she thought as she watched a wagon move away along the street in the distance, and then out of sight.

A little shiver went down her spine and she convinced herself that it was due to the sun getting lower in the sky.

She quickly unlocked the door and pushed it open.

When she bent down to pick up the box, the envelopes on top scattered to the ground. As she slightly cursed her clumsiness, she got an uneasy feeling that she was being watched even though she saw no one in the street. Her giddiness at the prospect of opening the box had now definitely changed to feeling unsettled.

If she had been asked, she wouldn't have been able to explain what was making her feel uneasy. All she knew was that something seemed off.

She grabbed the box and envelopes and hurried inside. As she turned to close the door behind her, a skittish Comet squeezed in the opening and meowed loudly.

"Comet, what's got you all riled up?" Elizabeth set the box on the nearest desk and lit a lantern before she went to close the door. Firmly pushing it closed, she turned the key in the lock.

 _I'm such a ninny. There's nothing to worry about. I'll just be a few minutes while I look through the box of books. But still, I think I'll lock it._

* * *

The books in the box were wonderful. Sent by a publisher in Calgary, there were at least thirty books of various reading levels. As she pulled book after book from the box, Elizabeth paused at each cover to read the title and then skim the pages.

The noise outside the window caused Elizabeth to jerk her head up from the pages of the thick book in her hands.

 _It was just the wind_ , she told herself.

 _Or someone walking down the street._

Elizabeth put the book down and reached into the box. Pulling out a book on farming from the remaining stack, she set it aside and then reached in and pulled out "Black Beauty". She was admiring a glossy illustration in the book when she froze.

The creak of wood seemed to have come from _within_ the building.

 _Just the wind,_ she tried to convince herself as she lifted her head and glanced around.

 _I locked the door._

With a start, Elizabeth realized that she hadn't locked the front door to the school house. It was routinely left unlocked in case a student got to school early, or realized they had forgotten something and returned after the school day had ended. But they never came this late. Did they?

As Elizabeth strained her ears and listened, she realized that the connecting door between the classroom and the teacherage probably wasn't locked either.

"Is anyone there?" she called out.

When she heard another creak, Elizabeth scurried across the room just as the connecting door opened.

The banker stopped for a moment in the doorway and set down a thick black canvas tote bag, the kind often used for carrying firewood.

"Mr. Sanders!", Elizabeth took a breath. "You surprised me. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You were at the post office."

Elizabeth's initial shock at seeing Mr. Sanders standing in the teacherage turned to puzzlement at his words.

"I was", she answered with a confused look.

"I was expecting a letter that the post-master could swear he saw arrive. He's thinking that you picked it up by accident when you picked up your mail."

Elizabeth breathed slightly easier now. She didn't know why she felt so jittery around Mr. Sanders, but something about the man bothered her. _Oh well, he's just here for a letter. No harm in that._

"I'm so sorry. I've been getting a lot of mail in response to my requests for donations. I must have picked up your letter by mistake. Let me look."

Elizabeth barely noticed when Mr. Sanders closed the door behind him as she thumbed through the stack of letters.

It was the fifth envelope that she came to which had mistakenly been put in her stack.

She looked at the address. Yes, there it was. Clearly addressed to Mr. B. Sanders, Bear Creek.

Elizabeth absentmindedly looked to the return address written in the upper left hand corner. Tarkinstins, Ltd., Ontario, Canada.

"They deal with cattle sales, don't they? I think my father used to -" Her voice trailed off as her pulse suddenly quickened.

 _Cattle!_

She looked up just in time to see the banker close the curtains on one of the room's small windows.

"Um. Never mind. Here's your letter", Elizabeth said hurriedly as she stretched out her hand. "Well, I'm off to home now. We can walk out together."

"I'm afraid you aren't going home just yet," Mr. Sanders informed her as he finished closing the curtains on the second of the room's window, blocking out any visibility into the teacherage from anyone walking outside.

"Mr. Sanders," Elizabeth said hesitantly as she continued to hold out the envelope to him. "You didn't need to close the curtains. . .

. . . And I AM going home now", she added with an attempt at bravery. Her heart had started to beat entirely too fast.

The man took the envelope from her outstretched hand, looked at it briefly, and then placed it in his pocket.

He casually picked up a book from the desk and looked at the title.

"You really are quite the literate young lady", he said wryly.

"Mr. Sanders, if you have something to say to me, please say it quickly. I'm on my way home."

Elizabeth watched, barely breathing, as the banker set the book back on the desk.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

When he took a step towards her, Elizabeth backed up. The edge of chair pressed deep into the small of her back as she tried to get as far away from him as possible without alarming him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I gave you your mail. You can leave now. Please leave."

"I would love to, but you noticed the return address on my mail. I saw it by your expression. I was hoping you wouldn't pick up on the significance. But you're a clever woman. And I'm sure you've already figured out what I've been up to."

"I have no idea what you're talking about", Elizabeth lied.

"The dead cattle. The rising prices. Your husband was asking questions in town. And now, the final piece of the puzzle. The correspondence linking me to cattle sales. I'm afraid I can't let you leave. You'd just run home to that Mountie husband of yours and he'd arrest me."

"My husband is expecting me. If I'm not home in a few minutes, he'll come looking for me."

"I'm sure that the Sergeant won't be worried that a simple school teacher could get into danger in her classroom. And I saw the light on in the jailhouse when I walked by a few minutes ago. So, no, I don't think he'll come looking for you soon."

Elizabeth looked towards the door which led to the outside. The key was still in the door's brass key-plate. She wondered if she could get to it, unlock the bolt, and get out before he reached her.

Mr. Sanders seemed oddly confident that Elizabeth would not leave the school house.

In fact, he walked over to the inner doorway from which he had entered, picked up the tote bag, and actually moved off to the side. Tacitly challenging Elizabeth to walk past him, open the door, and exit. He smiled like a Cheshire cat as he set the bag on the floor next to him.

Elizabeth brushed aside her nervous curiosity as to why Mr. Sanders didn't think she'd leave.

She picked up her shawl and addressed the man. "I'm leaving."

Moving quickly to the doorway, she continued to speak in an effort to calm herself. "I - I - My son will be expecting his next meal. He'll start fussing. And then crying. My husband will know that I'll be-."

"But your son's not with your husband. Did you forget?" the banker interrupted with a cool smile. "You left him with a neighbor for a bit. Such a kind woman, the old bakery lady Mrs. Tonts. Offering to watch your son while you ran some quick errands before your husband got home."

Elizabeth stared wide-eyed at the banker. He had a calm calculated attitude about him; as if he were in control of the situation.

She nervously looked towards the doorway as he continued to talk. He was right; with Little Jack at the neighbor's house and Elizabeth recently so busy with her library endeavor, Jack wouldn't think anything was amiss when he got home from work and found the house empty.

Mr. Sanders adjusted his glasses, and looked at her with a wicked smile. "What am I going to do about you, Mrs. Thornton?"

Elizabeth didn't say a word as her feet seemed now frozen to the floor.

"I think you're going to decide to stay with me for awhile. You see, I need to make sure that you don't tell your husband about the letter I received."

Elizabeth realized that for a man who had committed a crime, Mr. Sanders was entirely too sure that she wasn't going to voluntarily walk out of the building and run to her husband. She had no idea why he was so confident, and at the moment she didn't care. She just wanted out of there. And despite what Mr. Sanders believed, the first thing she was going to do was run straight into her husband's arms and warn him about Mr. Sanders.

"I'm not staying with you. I suggest you -" Elizabeth stopped talking as her eyes were drawn to Comet.

The cat padded across the floor towards the banker. The small animal hissed loudly and arched her back. Her tail was pointed straight up and fluffed to its fullest in a show of aggression.

Mr. Sanders scowled at the animal before turning his attention back to Elizabeth.

"You know you really shouldn't leave your son with Mrs. Tonts. She gets so tired in the evenings. . . "

Elizabeth watched as Comet hissed again at the banker and then the small animal nimbly climbed into the man's tote bag next to him.

A thought passed through Elizabeth's mind as Mr. Sanders continued to talk, but the thought made no sense to her.

 _Comet acts like she's guarding someone. But that's silly. The only person she cares about enough to protect is Jack. And of course, Little Jack. The cat adores Little Jack_

" . . . . . The old woman has a habit of falling asleep on the couch. And with her bad hearing, anyone can just walk into her home", the banker continued.

Elizabeth gave a strangled cry and covered her mouth with her hand.

It was now clear to her what - or more accurately _who_ Mr. Sanders had in the tote bag by his feet.

And why the man knew Elizabeth wouldn't leave.

Her little boy was in that bag.

 **Up next: Chapter 8**


	8. Chapter 8 - The Note

**Chapter 8 – The Note**

When her head swung back, Elizabeth felt the blood in her mouth as she accidentally bit her tongue.

Mr. Sander's slap to her face had achieved its intended purpose; she wouldn't struggle to get away again.

"Now, shut up and do as I say", he instructed coldly. "Or next time, it will be your boy, I'll be raising my hand to."

"Don't touch him." Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears from the sting of the slap.

Mr. Sanders handed Elizabeth a pencil and a piece of paper. "Start writing."

He nodded towards the paper. "Tell your husband not to expect you for a few hours. That you're going to a student's home. That will give us plenty of a head start."

"Whose? Whose house?" she asked with her voice cracking as she tried to remain composed.

"I don't give a damn. Just pick a student. And hurry up."

Elizabeth paused for a moment before picking up the pencil. As she began writing, the banker pulled aside the edge of a curtain and looked outside. "Don't forget to add that you're taking your child with you, and your husband shouldn't worry", he said over his shoulder.

"Please let me leave the baby here. He'll just get in the way."

"He's coming with us."

His voice was harsh enough that Elizabeth knew not to argue.

* * *

Two hours later, Jack and Lucy stood in the front room of the mercantile-house and looked at the note.

"It doesn't make sense. She said she's visiting one of her students. But she doesn't have a student named Eugenie."

When Jack looked at Lucy, she added quickly with a shrug. "I read it when I first saw it. It wasn't sealed or anything. I didn't know what it was."

Lucy had found Elizabeth's note when, having seen the light at the teacherage, she had stopped by to tell Elizabeth about the moving picture she had seen in Somerset the day prior. Finding the unattended lit lantern and the odd note, she had sensed something was wrong.

Jack had only been home a minute when Lucy had knocked on the door. He hadn't even taken off his boots after a long day of work because he had decided to go look for Elizabeth and Thatch after walking through the empty house and wondering where they were this late in the evening.

Jack looked again at the sheet of paper which Lucy had handed him and read it aloud. He recognized Elizabeth's perfect penmanship.

 _I have to visit a student's father, Mr. Danglars, this evening to discuss his daughter, Eugenie's use of French. Little Thatcher and I will be home late. Don't worry._

"Little Thatcher? We never call him Little Thatcher. It's either Thatch or Little Jack or Baby Jack. It's never Little Thatcher", Jack said with a frown.

Lucy remained quiet as she anxiously stood by Jack, who was pensively staring at the paper.

"And you have no idea where she might be?"

"No. There was a lit lantern in the teacherage but it was empty."

"Did you see anyone in the street? Did you ask anyone?"

"I ran into Mrs. Tonts. She was looking for Elizabeth to apologize for falling asleep when she was watching Little Jack", Lucy explained.

"Watching Little Jack?"

"Elizabeth had dropped him off there earlier in the evening."

"She left him with Mrs. Tonts and then picked him up to take him to someone's house to speak to a student's father? That doesn't make sense. Did Mrs. Tonts say if Elizabeth was acting strangely?"

"She never saw Elizabeth. When she woke up, the baby was gone. She assumed Elizabeth had simply walked in and taken him. Not wanting to wake her up."

Jack, worry evident on his face, looked up from the note when he spoke again. "I haven't noticed anyone new move into the area. I know everyone in town. There's not a family named Danglars."

"I know. That's why I thought the note was strange. But why would she write it? And where is she?"

"She wrote _Little Thatcher_ to let me know that something wasn't right. I'm sure of that. But who is Eugenie Danglars. The name seems familiar. I just can't figure out why. Was there ever a Danglars family in Bear Creek before we moved here?"

"No", Lucy answered as she shook her head. "Not that I know of. We've been here a year longer than you."

"And she's never mentioned a problem with a girl speaking in French."

Lucy nodded in agreement. "I know. The Durand boys speak French but they also speak English. I don't know of a Eugenie who speaks French."

"Mr. Danglars. Mr. Danglars. Father of Eugenie Danglars", Jack repeated as he paced the floor. "I've heard that name before."

"So have I", Lucy said in puzzlement. "At least sort of. . . . I just can't put my finger on it. . . . Mr. Danglars. . . . Eugenie. . . . Speaking French," Lucy muttered quietly. She bounced her son on her hip as she walked around the room. Stopping in front of a waist-high bookcase, she set the boy on top of the piece of furniture to rest her arms briefly.

"Mr. Danglars. French. French Mr. Danglars. Monsieur Danglars . . .", she repeatedly softly.

"In a book!", she exclaimed suddenly. "It's a character from a book. Mr. Danglars! I'm sure of it."

"That's it! Monsieur Danglars. Baron Danglars. From _The Count of Monte Cristo_!"

Jack's excitement at realizing from where he recognized the name was quickly quelled when he realized that the man was a character in a nineteenth century French novel, and therefore, highly unlikely to be in Bear Creek with his wife and son.

"But why would Elizabeth say she was with Mr. Danglars?" Lucy asked in confusion.

"She must be trying to tell me something. And for whatever reason, she couldn't write down who she was really with. What do we know about the character?"

"Oh, I have no idea", Lucy admitted. "My book reading was a bit unique growing up."

"Think!" Jack exclaimed so harshly that Lucy jumped in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get upset with you. Let's talk this through", he said apologetically as he began pacing the floor again. " _The Count of Monte Cristo._ The main character is falsely imprisoned. Monsieur Danglars was the chief schemer. The culprit . . . . Leave it to Elizabeth to think of a book when trying to give me a clue."

"She does love her books", Lucy muttered as she began searching for the novel among the books in the shelf. "It's not here. Is there another bookshelf somewhere?"

"No. But she keeps some books by her bedside."

Jack came back empty-handed from the bedroom a moment later.

"I'm not sure we even own it. She must have read it years ago. I just need to remember the story", he said as he anxiously raked his fingers through his hair. "Mr. Danglars. He was the mastermind behind the plot. He became a banker. He eventually - ." Jack's eyes grew wide with realization. "A banker! Mr. Danglars was a banker. Mr. Sanders. She's with Mr. Sanders!"

"But why?" Lucy looked totally perplexed. "She hates Mr. Sanders. And why wouldn't she just say she was with him?"

"The cattle scheme! Elizabeth figured out that someone was poisoning the cattle. We just didn't know who. Oh, dear Lord, she must have figured out that it was Mr. Sanders and he knows it. He's taken her". Jack's voice was filled with anguish. "He's taken Elizabeth and Thatch."

* * *

They had been riding for hours.

The moon provided little light and when moving clouds covered it, the three figures on the horse were plunged into darkness.

Elizabeth knew her clues would be impossible to find tonight, but she prayed that someone would find them in the morning, realize their importance, and let Jack know the direction the group was headed.

The sock from Thatch's left foot was in the street in front of the doctor's office. His right sock was on the edge of town. Elizabeth's handkerchief, the one embroidered with the letters M.J.T., which had been in her pocket and soiled with the usual spot of burped-up breast milk, was now a half-mile from town. A hair comb followed that.

She had spent a considerable amount of time mentally calculating how far Comet could travel so that the animal would cross paths with Jack in the morning; confirming for Jack that he was traveling in the right direction. Finally, realizing, she had no idea how fast a cat would travel, even if it wanted to go home, Elizabeth tossed the cat off the horse twelve miles outside of town. She was amazed that Mr. Sanders has put up with the animal for as long as that. And that was only because the man forgot about the feline as Elizabeth had kept it nestled to her own body and that of Thatch's. The banker had been quite surprised when Elizabeth had dropped the cat from high upon the horse and lied that the animal had scratched her.

Elizabeth was riding in saddle in front of Mr. Sanders. His chest was pushed against her back and she felt repulsed as his hands reached around her to hold the reins. But at least he no longer had one hand on her waist.

The man had allowed Elizabeth to use her shawl to tightly secure Little Jack to her chest. The boy rested comfortably against her body, snuggled in the knitted material, lulled by the rhythm of the horse's movement.

Unlike the sleeping baby, Elizabeth's own body was tense and aching. Her legs throbbed from hugging the horse tightly. One of her hands rested on the baby's back for his added security. Her other hand clutched the saddle's hard horn to keep her, and the baby, from falling off the horse.

Her pregnant body felt like she needed to vomit at any moment. Whether it was due to the baby in her womb, the motion of the horse, or her fear, she didn't know. What she did know was that her son would be hungry soon. She silently prayed that he stayed asleep until this drama was over.

From the little she had gathered, Elizabeth deduced that Mr. Sanders was planning on riding to Silt's Falls, not the most obvious or closest train station. From there, he planned on taking a train to his final destination. She had no idea how long he planned on keeping her and Thatch with him.

The baby's whimpering snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Shut him up."

"I have to feed him. He's hungry."

Mr. Sanders jerked the reins causing the horse to come to an abrupt stop. He dismounted from the horse and roughly pulled Elizabeth off the saddle.

"Hurry up."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth quickly rebuttoned her blouse when she heard the footsteps approach her from behind.

She winced when Mr. Sanders yanked her arm and dragged her back to the horse.

* * *

It was impossible to catch them in the nighttime.

Jack wasn't even sure which direction they had headed. He spent two hours riding to outlying homes, asking if anyone had seen Elizabeth, but each time the home occupants shook their heads and said they had seen nothing. Heard nothing.

Michael and some of the other men in town had done their own searches. Finally, Jack realized it was hopeless until morning light. He packed a bag, checked for responses to the numerous telegrams he had sent to law enforcement offices in a two-hundred-mile radius, and tried to get some rest while he waited for daybreak.

* * *

By the time someone found Elizabeth's handkerchief and returned it to Jack, she was more than thirty miles from Bear Creek. She was exhausted to the point where her initial panic and fear, which had lasted for several tense hours, had now dulled to apprehension.

 _This is just like when I was held hostage by the Tolliver gang. Except instead of Julie being with me, I have Little Jack. Same thing. They're both babies,_ she thought with a bit of wry humor.

Her dulled feeling didn't last long. As they approached Silt's Falls, Elizabeth's pulse quickened. Her heart pounded in her chest.

She looked around the bustling town. Her eyes alert for a police officer or Mountie. Anyone who might notice something unusual about a gruff man accompanied by a weary looking pregnant woman and a small child. But no one paid her any attention.

As they left the horse and walked through an alley toward the train station, Elizabeth tightened the shawl around her bosom. Nothing was going to separate her from her son.

At least, at first, she didn't think anything would. The second slap to the face didn't break her resolve. But the knife to her son's neck did.

"Give him to me now. Don't make me ask again."

"Promise me you won't hurt him."

Mr. Sanders looked at her with disgust. "As you long as you do as I say, he'll be fine. Now cover your hair with your shawl."

As they approached the train station's ticket counter, Mr. Sanders, standing behind Elizabeth, kept a firm grasp on Thatch. His large hand clearly touching the small boy's delicate neck.

"Two tickets. Just as I explained. Don't try anything. You'll never be able to catch me if I take off with your son," he warned. "And you'll never be quick enough if I decide to snap his neck."

"Two tickets to Montreal please. The baby doesn't need one, correct?" Elizabeth, making an attempt to speak in a calm voice, said to the man in the railroad cap who stood on the other side of the ticket window.

"That's correct, ma'am", the bored teller answered as he took her money and handed her two tickets.

As the man counted out her change, Elizabeth tried to get the man to pay more attention to her. She needed him to remember her. To remember a woman traveling to Montreal with a baby.

"How many stops does the train make?"

"Every station along the rails, ma'am."

"Is it a terribly long trip?"

"Same distance it always has been." He made her feel like a fool for having asked the question but she needed to continue the conversation. To draw it out longer.

"How. . .um . . how long until we board? I need to change my son's diaper."

"Ten minutes. Next."

Elizabeth moved away from the counter as the teller gave his attention to the next customer.

"I saw that. Trying to draw attention to yourself. Don't do anything stupid like that again. I'll keep ahold of him a little while longer," Mr. Sanders told Elizabeth when she reached out her arms for Thatch.

* * *

Elizabeth ate ravenously. The apple and plain roll which Mr. Sanders had thrust at her were the first things she had eaten since yesterday's lunch.

 _My mother would be mortified if she saw me eating like this in public,_ she thought as she took an unladylike gulp of Coca Cola from the 5-cent glass bottle.

She looked at Thatch who was sitting on the train seat next to her. After listening to the boy fuss in a wet diaper, and Elizabeth's complaints that he would get a rash if he wasn't changed, Mr. Sanders had finally agreed to Elizabeth's request. He had approached a mother with two children on the platform and offered them money in exchange for a cloth diaper.

Now the boy, comfortably dry, played with a newspaper which a prior passenger had left. Crinkling the paper and laughing at the sound, he was unconcerned that the ink from the paper was smudging his hands. Unconcerned that his mother was trying to keep him alive.

* * *

Jack pushed away the plate of food. He was too anxious to eat any more, and had only eaten enough to keep Lucy from continuing to pester him.

"You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry. I need to –" The opening of the front door caused Jack to stop in mid-sentence.

Lucy's husband, Michael, walked in the door. By the look on his face, Jack knew this telegram wasn't a negative response like the other dozen he had already received.

Jack jumped up from his seat and grabbed the telegram from Michael's hands.

Quickly scanning the words, he allowed himself to have a little hope; there had a been a possible siting at the Silt's Falls train station a few hours earlier. The ticket seller remembered that a woman, her hair covered in a shawl, was concerned about the long trip to Montreal. She had mentioned a baby, although the railroad employee didn't remember seeing one.

Despite questioning by police, the man couldn't remember anything more. Not even if the woman had actually boarded the train.

Jack realized that even if the woman was Elizabeth, he was hours away from Silt's Falls, and even longer away from her if she had gotten on the train.

He had no idea where she was in in the vast land between Silt's Falls and Montreal and even if she and Thatch were still alive.

 **Up next: Chapter 9**


	9. Chapter 9 - Believe

**Chapter 9 – Believe**

Thatch needed to be changed again.

This time, Elizabeth didn't bother to ask Mr. Sanders' permission. When she noticed a young girl and a toddler boy walking through the train car, she simply stopped them and inquired if they could help.

Five minutes later, the girl, who Elizabeth estimated to be about eight-year's old, returned from another car with a diaper and watched curiously as Elizabeth changed Thatch.

Elizabeth would have liked to have passed a note to the girl, but she didn't have any paper or a pencil. Besides, Mr. Sanders was too alert for that. Elizabeth had hoped that the man would have dozed off by now, but he didn't show any signs of drowsiness.

* * *

An hour later, the police officer at the train station in Fougere Rouge thanked a woman, who was carrying one baby on her hip, and surrounded by several other children. It was starting to drizzle and the officer was giving a fleeting thought as to how the woman was going to get her entire family and two suitcases home with just one small umbrella, when his partner approached from the other end of the platform.

The train had been pulling out of the station just as the officers had arrived so they had hurriedly looked around the station's platform for any women with a young child who had disembarked.

"Any luck?"

"Just two families on my end. Nothing suspicious", the older patrolman answered. "If they were on the train, they didn't get off here. What about you?"

"How old is the Thornton baby supposed to be?"

"Just under a year I think."

"And the woman traveling with him is supposed to be his mother, the Mountie's wife, right?"

"Yeah, why? What's going on?"

"Just something that young girl said", the officer answered as he nodded towards the woman and her gaggle of children who were leaving the station. "The woman's daughter gave a diaper to some lady on the train. Could have been our kidnapped Mountie's wife. Fits the description. The woman thought it was odd that the lady would travel with a child and not have a spare diaper."

"What'd the lady on the train say?"

The officer shrugged. "That they were traveling in a hurry and she had misplaced her bag, or some story like that."

"Was there a man with her?"

"Yeah. Apparently, there was an odd tension between them. He didn't want to let go of the baby to let the lady change the diaper. The girl said it wasn't a happy marriage."

The patrolman gave a laugh. "How's a kid know what a happy marriage looks like?"

"You see how many siblings she's got? She knows when parents get along", the other man chuckled in response.

"So that's why you're suspicious? Because a little girl says the couple on the train had tension between them? I think we need more to go on than that," the officer remarked as he lit up a cigarette.

"Actually, it was something else she said. She said that the lady on the train didn't know how to put the baby's diaper on properly."

The man exhaled a long puff of smoke from his mouth before asking, "What are you talking about?"

"I dunno", the man shrugged. "She said that woman didn't do it right."

"You're going to believe something an eight or nine-year old girl says about how to diaper a baby?"

"With all those brothers and sisters, believe me, she's probably been changing diapers since she was three. She says the lady didn't do it right. Something about the pins."

"So?"

"So, a mother of a baby that's almost one year old should know how to diaper the kid. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, . . . unless she's rich and has help. You know, like one of those snooty ladies on the upper side of town."

"Could be. Pass me a cigarette."

"You think it was the Mountie's wife and kid?" the older patrolman said as he handed his partner a cigarette and then took another long drag on his own.

"Yeah. . . . Maybe. Something's not right. Let's report it to the next station on the line."

* * *

Elizabeth knew something was going to happen. Soon. Time was running out.

At the last town, she had noticed two police officers arriving just as the train pulled out of the station. She wanted to believe that it wasn't just coincidence; that they weren't simply there to greet arriving visitors or to travel somewhere.

 _They're looking for me and Thatch! There'll be law enforcement at the next station!_

Mr. Sanders had noticed them too. She saw his right hand fidget in his jacket pocket and she knew that his fingers were nervously gripping and un-gripping his pistol's handle.

Or perhaps it was his switchblade knife.

 _No. S_ he remembered now that the knife was in his left pocket. The gun was in the right pocket.

The man frequently glanced over his shoulder and watched the doors at the end of the car open and close as people made their way to the dining car or to stretch their legs. He had become so worried that he wasn't thinking straight and had absentmindedly allowed Elizabeth to keep Thatch with her after the diaper was changed.

Elizabeth kept her hands on Thatch's waist as he stood sideways on the seat. His palms were pressed to the window as he watched the landscape passing by. The tracks wound through the wilderness, curving around hills and through valleys.

It had taken only a bit of creativity for Elizabeth to secure his diaper with just one pin. The other pin was now in one of her hands.

* * *

Jack had wanted to ride for Silt's Falls immediately when he received the telegram that the railroad clerk may have sold tickets to Elizabeth. But with the poor weather coming in, he begrudgingly realized it would be smarter to wait for a train to take him there. Although he wouldn't be able to leave for several more hours - when the next scheduled train was due - the speed of the train would surpass that of a horse riding through the rain and soggy fields.

He also knew that the other good thing about waiting for the train was that he'd be able to receive any more telegrams which may come in.

Once he got to Silt's Falls, he'd decide his next course of action.

For now, he held his weapon in his hands. He had cleaned it twice. Loaded it. Checked that it was loaded. And then re-checked that it was loaded. When the time came, he wouldn't hesitate to use it. Anything to protect his family.

Now he just had to wait.

* * *

"We're getting off here," Mr. Sanders said gruffly as he suddenly pulled her to her feet. Elizabeth looked around in confusion. The train was still moving. They weren't even at a stop.

With a horrible sinking feeling, she realized that he planned to jump off the train as it slowed down to go around curves.

"No," she gasped.

"I would love to leave you behind but I don't think that's a choice", he said coldly as he looked towards the front of the train car. The railroad employee, who had earlier been through the train checking tickets, was now coming towards them again.

"We'll get hurt!"

"That's fine by me. As long as you're not on the train to alert anyone about me, I don't care if you collapse in a ditch. I'll leave you and your brat there."

Mr. Sanders pulled out his gun and unobtrusively put it behind her back. "Let's go. Grab the kid."

Elizabeth looked to the other end of the car, from where another employee was now walking down the thin aisle.

"Excuse me, my wife and I need to get by. She's feeling ill. We're going to the back of the train to get some air", Mr. Sanders explained as he pushed their way past one of the men. He tightened the grip on Elizabeth's elbow.

"Sir, we'll be stopping in ten minutes. Your wife can get off at the station."

"Get out of my way."

His angry voice caused the few other passengers in the train car to look up in surprise.

The train's movement around a curve of the tracks jostled the trio as they walked, causing Elizabeth to lose her balance. She held tightly to Thatch with one arm and grabbed onto a seat back with the other hand to steady herself before Mr. Sanders pushed her forward again.

When they went around the next curve, Mr. Sanders stumbled, temporarily moving the gun from behind her back as he reached for his glasses which had fallen.

Elizabeth realized it was now or never.

If Jack could use a diaper to stop his bleeding and save his own life, Elizabeth was going to use a diaper pin to save hers.

In quick succession, she dropped Thatch onto the lap of large man who was sitting in the seat directly to her right, then maneuvered the open diaper pin between her fingers, and swung.

The pin hit its intended target. Mr. Sander's eyeball.

The man screamed as the thin sharp piece of metal pierced his brown iris. Elizabeth would have been happy if the pin had hit the white of the eye, but this was even better.

The train picked up speed as it hit a straight-away, and Mr. Sanders, flailing widely from pain, crashed into Elizabeth's shoulder, knocking her about.

The banker yowled as he lifted up an arm and confusingly reached to his eye, accidentally pushing the two-inch pin into the soft eyeball even farther. Now, only the rounded tip of the device and the thin metal which came after it were visible. The entire one-half of the pin, the part with the sharp end, was pushed into his eye.

"Help me!" Elizabeth screamed as Mr. Sanders knocked her about as he tried to figure out what to do.

The confused passengers started yelling loudly and moving about. Screaming for the conductor.

The large male passenger who had suddenly found himself with a baby on his lap was totally unsure about what was going but, nevertheless, he moved his body sideways to shield Thatch from the ruckus in the aisle.

Mr. Sanders held onto the back of a seat. The diaper pin stuck firmly in the gelatinous spongy eyeball. Since childhood, he had cursed his poor eyesight and his need to wear glasses. Now, he no longer even had that limited eyesight to complain about.

He clumsily pulled the pin from his eye as he continued to scream profanities and then reached for his weapon.

Thatch, scared by the screams and wanting his mother, was now wailing loudly. He pitifully held out his arms to try to get to Elizabeth.

As the train went around another curve before going into a tunnel, Mr. Sanders tripped over Elizabeth's feet as she pushed against him and tried to right herself.

The train car was plunged into darkness as it entered the underground passageway through the mountain.

The noise was chaotic. The train's whistle as it traveled through the tunnel. The desperate loud cries of Thatch, with tears running down his face, as he woefully stretched out his arms, hoping to get comfort from his mother. The angry yells of curse words from Mr. Sanders. The pleas of help from Elizabeth. The screams of the confused passengers as they stumbled to get away from the scene. The conductor's loud commanding voice, which was barely heard as he entered the car and asked what the hell was going on.

Whether the gun was fired on purpose or accident, Elizabeth never knew. The weapon's loud blast sent the train passengers into even more of a frenzy.

As Elizabeth began to fall to the floor of the narrow aisle, her only thought was that she hoped the gunshot had missed.

* * *

For the last forty-eight hours, Jack's body had been too tense. His mind reeling from the events. The worry of the worst possibilities drowning out reality. He couldn't relax.

He couldn't stop pacing and sweating and worrying until he saw them for himself.

When the telegram from the police station more than three hundred miles away arrived informing Jack that Mr. Sanders had been arrested, he didn't allow himself to totally believe they were safe. All the typed words on the slip of paper were the same size but for some reason, the words ' _shot fired', 'Elizabeth injured slightly', 'family at hospital'_ seemed darker and more pronounced than the other words on the same paper that said that his family was _fine._

Even when a telegram from Elizabeth herself had arrived telling him they were safe, he wouldn't let himself totally believe it was true.

Even when Lucy packed one of Thatch's small outfits in Jack's bag and told him that his son could probably use a fresh change of clothes, he still didn't believe that he could be so lucky that they were both alive. That a woman, pregnant and scared, and a small boy, too young to walk yet, could have escaped with only minor injuries seemed too hopeful.

When Michael told him that he'd watch over things at home; that Jack should get some sleep, or eat something, now that he knew his family was safe. Jack couldn't. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He couldn't let himself believe that they were safe until he was with them.

Instead, his mind went to the darkest, the saddest, the loneliest, of places.

Looking out the window as the locomotive picked up speed and the landscape blurred past him, Jack clutched Elizabeth's telegram in his hand. He remembered his own telegram to her just a few weeks earlier. When he had hidden the truth of his injuries from her. To protect her.

Now, he wondered, was she doing the same to him.

 _Elizabeth's most likely lost the baby. She was so hoping for a girl._

 _Oh, God. She must be so scared and feeling alone. She'll be devastated._ His mind filled with the agonizing thought.

 _I have to be strong for her. She'll need me to be the strong one._

 _Thatch is so tiny. On a horse for all those hours. At the hands of someone threating his life. He would have been hungry and scared. Mr. Sanders would have hated to hear the crying. He hurt my boy. Or maybe Thatch was injured when they were being rescued._

 _My sweet innocent boy has been injured. Or worse. Elizabeth is waiting to tell me in person._

 _She doesn't want to tell me in a telegram that my son is dead._

 _My son is dead._

Jack sat on the train's worn leather seat. Hunched over with his head in his trembling hands.

Only two things in the world could make him feel better. Elizabeth and Thatch. As he sat on the train, he had neither.

Even when the young Mountie, who had been sent by headquarters to meet him at the train station and escort him to the hospital, told him that his family was fine, Jack couldn't believe it.

Not until he held them would he allow himself to believe they were safe.

Even as the hospital's nurse at the lobby's desk looked up their room number and, in a bored voice, gave Jack directions, his body still didn't allow him to breathe normally.

When he hurriedly, but with a sense of dread as to what he might _not_ find, approached the hospital room and heard the squeal of glee from inside the room, he wanted to believe.

 _That sounds like Thatch_ , he thought in surprise.

When he walked in the room and heard another peal of laughter from the other side of the room's white cloth partition, his eyes shot up and his heart skipped a beat.

 _That sounds like my son._

When he heard Elizabeth's happy voice. _Silly boy, now my hair's going to be a mess when daddy comes to pick us up._ Jack's heart pounded so hard, he thought it would break out of his chest.

And then he pulled back the partition and saw them.

There they were.

Elizabeth was standing by the hospital bed; holding Thatch in front of her as she helped him stand with his tiny toes on the mattress.

"Jack!" she exclaimed happily. "You're here!"

And then he was holding them. Smooshing Thatch too tightly between their bodies. Breathing in the smell of his wife and son.

He didn't want to let them go, but finally Elizabeth pulled back. She looked at him with a smile before placing a kiss on his lips. "We're fine", she said reassuringly.

With one hand, Jack caressed her face, gently pushing her hair behind her ear.

And then they held each other again until finally Thatch batted Elizabeth away as he began babbling excitedly and trying to show Jack a lollipop.

Not wanting to let her go, Jack reached out his hand and clasped her elbow, gently pulling him to her again.

 _They're safe._

Elizabeth snuggled against Jack's body and ignored her son's feet digging into her chest. Ignored the sticky lollipop which now had strands of her hair clinging to it.

They probably would have remained standing there longer in the middle of the hospital room if the nurse hadn't walked in.

"Mrs. Thornton, I have your discharge papers."

 _This is everything_ , Jack thought as he ignored the nurse and continued to hold his family.

Elizabeth gently extricated herself from Jack's arms, and smiled pleasantly at the nurse. "Thank you. We'll just be a minute."

She picked up her shawl from the bed and Thatch's socks, a new pair which had been supplied by a helpful orderly.

"You can take some Bayer Aspirin for the pain. And don't forget to continue to drink plenty of fluids. You were slightly dehydrated when you got here. And you'll want to . . . . ."

Jack's eyes busily examined Thatch while the nurse's voice continued to drone on as she informed Elizabeth that she could pay her bill at the front desk.

 _Two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes._

 _No bandages, no bruise, no cuts._

 _Not even a scratch! He's all here._

Jack's mind was finding it difficult to comprehend his son's perfect condition until he looked at Elizabeth. And he knew. He knew why his son wasn't injured.

Because his son's mother was Elizabeth.

"Let's go home", she said wearily as she turned to Jack. He saw fatigue in her eyes.

 _This is everything_ , Jack thought _. Elizabeth and Thatch_. _This is enough._

But he needed to ask anyway when he looked at Elizabeth' bruised cheek. The bandage wrapped around her wrist. The way she moved gingerly as she walked across the room to thank the nurse for her care.

" _The baby?_ " he whispered sadly.

"You're holding the baby", Elizabeth replied with a curious look as she nodded to Thatch who was now wrapping his arms around Jack's neck. "He's fine."

"Not Thatch. I mean . . . the baby we're expecting".

He said it so quietly that Thatch's babbling almost drowned out his words.

Jack looked down at Elizabeth's stomach and noticed it was still slightly swollen. Just like it had been a few days earlier when he had rubbed his palm along her skin as they lay together in bed.

Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively at Jack's worry and gave him a smile. "He or she is just fine."

"I promise", she added reassuringly when he looked at her with his sad skepticism. "I broke the fall with my hand. And when we were riding, I had my arms and Thatch held to my stomach. Your son's chubby body was a good cushion for anything. I'm just a little sore from sitting on that horse for hours and I twisted my ankle when I fell."

Finally Jack believed.

His family was safe.

Elizabeth, seeing the emotion in Jack, walked into his open arm and pressed her soft body to his.

Thatch had never seen his father cry. He took a pudgy hand and touched the wetness which had now started to run down Jack's cheeks. The boy stared, mesmerized by the tears, then leaned his face forward. He opened his mouth wide and in a sweet baby way, he kissed his father.

 **Up next: Chapter 10.**

 **Dear Readers, Thanks for your reviews and messages. I love to read your thoughts about the chapters! With most of my stories, the first chapter and the last chapter share similarities. There's just one chapter left as we come full circle and also realize how the story got its name.**


	10. Chapter 10 - Poetic Justice

**Chapter 10 – Poetic Justice**

After the last of the town's eating and drinking establishments had closed for the night, the rain began falling in a drizzle; soaking the pavement and the grass in the small front yards of the few houses that lined the street.

Jack, grateful that he was wearing his flannel pajamas against the chill in the air, pulled his robe's cloth belt tighter. He stood under the tin awning of the home's back door and waited patiently for Rip to wander back down the alley.

Comet brushed against Jack's leg, and meowed for her favorite human to hold her.

Jack bent down and picked up the black cat with its streak of white. The feline, small for her age, had proven to be a devoted member of the family. When Jack had found her walking towards town the morning after Elizabeth and Thatch had been kidnapped, he had a pretty good idea that she was coming from following them, or had been with them. Jack knew then that he had been traveling in the right direction; that his kidnapped family was heading west of town.

Jack now stroked the cat's fur and listened to the pleasant sound of the rain hitting the small roof. Despite the chilly rain, nothing could dampen his spirits. Not even if Thatch were colicky, would Jack get upset. Although, to be honest, he was grateful that the boy had outgrown that.

After another two minutes outside Rip hurried back to him. Jack ushered the animal inside and followed after him.

Jack walked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself in case the baby was still awake and happened to look at him. If Thatch saw his father walk by, he would most likely react be smiling broadly, reaching out his arms, and babbling incoherently. All of which were wonderful during the daytime, but not conducive to bedtime.

Jack smiled as he walked past Elizabeth on his way to the front door to make sure it was locked. She barely glanced up from the novel in her hands.

After ensuring the door was secured, he opened up the front window drapes slightly and looked outside. He scanned the quiet street; looking at the nearby buildings.

Jack loved living in Bear Creek. It was larger than many frontier towns, but nowhere near the size of a bustling city. It had one school. One school teacher. One bank. One doctor. One Mountie.

The fact that he lived with, and was madly in love with, the one school teacher was the part he liked the best.

He scanned the buildings across the way and then glanced at the large green letters painted twelve inches high on his own front window. The words were backwards if read from the inside the home, but he didn't need to read them to know what was written. The writing announced to anyone concerned that it was the Thorntons' home. At least until they moved to their next assignment.

He pulled the drapes shut again, and proceeded to the kitchen.

* * *

Five minutes later, he crossed the bedroom threshold. Not bothering to look to the right or left. Knowing that Elizabeth was in bed. She was sitting up, her back propped against a pillow as she read.

For the umpteenth time in the last thirty years, Jack was glad that he had perfect eyesight; it allowed him to see his beautiful wife and son.

They had been home for three weeks. Three weeks of normalcy. Three weeks of routine chores and changing diapers and cleaning the house. Three weeks of Mountie work and school work. Three weeks of hugs and laughter.

Most everyone would be home in their beds this late at night. Quite a few would be reading books. The only contagion that was now going through Bear Creek was Elizabeth's zeal for the library and her love of reading; it had become contagious as more and more books had arrived in town in response to her written requests.

"Do you have it?" Elizabeth asked as she looked up at Jack when he approached their bed with one hand held slightly behind his back.

"Do you have what I want?" he countered.

Elizabeth chuckled. "What do you want?"

"I will give you this mug of hot chocolate provided you give me some love."

'How much love?" she giggled.

"There aren't really varying degrees of our love. Unsurpassable love is unsurpassable love. But I suppose there are varying degrees of how we show it."

"And how do you want me to show it?" she challenged.

Without another word, the emotional man leaned down and gently touched his lips to Elizabeth's.

The transaction, a kiss for a mug of hot chocolate, was long and tender.

Jack, who didn't even notice that the cold rain had soaked the bottom fifth of his pajama legs, grinned slightly as he pulled away.

It had been a good exchange.

* * *

The next afternoon, Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. She had spent ten minutes searching in the closet, under couch pillows, under the couch, in the cupboards. The skein of blue yarn was gone.

"Jack! Did you move my blue yarn?"

Jack, wiping his hands on a dishrag, walked in from the kitchen and looked at a frazzled Elizabeth. "No, did you leave it in the bedroom?"

"I wasn't knitting in the bedroom!"

"I'm sure it will turn up."

"That's what you said last time."

Elizabeth plopped herself down the couch and sighed. "She's so frustrating but I suppose she's gotten her point across."

"Who? What?"

Elizabeth smiled as she reached into the wicker basket next to her and pulled out a skein of yarn. "We're having a girl."

Jack's brow furrowed in curiosity as he took in the sight of his wife sitting on the couch.

She was holding a bundle of pale pink spun wool. Staring at it as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

Yarn.

 _Pink_ yarn.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth, her eyes filled with tears, looked up at Jack.

"Those are happy tears, right?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded and then patted her stomach. "This one's a girl."

Jack looked around the room cautiously as he walked towards her.

"And you know this how?"

"She's hidden my last four skeins of blue yarn. I keep buying it. To make some more baby things. And she keeps hiding it. But the pink yarn is always here. Always handy. Waiting for me to make something. Something pink."

"Who has? Who's hidden your blue yarn?"

"Bunny. Our lavender-scented ghost. She's telling me not to bother making anything blue for the baby. This one's going to wear pink."

Jack smiled and shook his head in laughter. "I'm not going to argue with you. If you want a girl, we're having a girl."

" _I'm_ not telling you it's a girl. Bunny is. She's telling us it's a girl."

"You know how crazy that sounds."

"I know", Elizabeth smiled. "And you can tell me that it's just coincidence. Or some self-fulfilling prophecy. That there's no such thing as ghosts. That subconsciously, I keep misplacing the blue yarn because I really want a girl. And you're probably right. Except . . . . except I don't keep misplacing the blue yarn. I put it in the basket every time I buy a new one, and the next day, it's always gone." She looked down at her belly. "This one's a girl."

"Well, we've already got three names ready for a girl."

"Three? I thought we had two."

"Halley. After Halley's comet, of course. And Jacklyn. Because you insist."

"What's the third?" Elizabeth crinkled her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Elizabeth. After the most wonderful woman I know. I think a daughter would be very lucky to be named after you."

Elizabeth gave a chuckle. "I'm not so sure you can handle two Elizabeths."

Before Jack could respond, Thatch, who had been in the kitchen, crawled across the floor towards the couple. He moved as if on a mission, making babbling sounds as he headed for his intended target.

Jack froze and his eyes grew wide. "Did you hear that?!" he asked excitedly.

"Hmm. I did." Elizabeth hesitated, wondering why Jack was so excited.

"He said pop-pop! He's trying to say Papa! He's saying his first real words! Papa!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course, he's coming right towards me saying it!"

Before Elizabeth could disagree, a thrilled Jack reached down and scooped up Thatch into his arms.

"Although, I wonder why he'd call me Papa instead of Daddy or Dada. Must be a baby thing" Jack mused as he lovingly carried the boy against his chest.

"Papa! I'm his Papa. _And_ he said it _before_ Mama", Jack noted proudly with a smile at Elizabeth.

Jack, carrying Thatch, happily walked back towards the kitchen to finish the dishes. His son stretched out an arm over Jack's shoulder as if reaching for something.

Elizabeth followed her son's gaze, which was longingly focused on the purse laying by her feet on the floor. The purse Jack had been standing next to when Thatch crawled across the floor.

"Pop pop", the little boy said one more time with a disappointed look on his face as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Elizabeth leaned down and picked up her purse. Opening it, she glanced at the contents inside. Without taking anything out of the bag, she closed it and gave a small smile.

While Elizabeth had found the kidnapping ordeal to be something she never wanted to repeat or even remember, Thatch had a different experience. He had found one part of the ordeal to be thoroughly amazing. The lollipop which the hospital staff had given him. His first encounter with candy.

He had also managed to look so adorably sweet that the nurse had handed a second one to Elizabeth.

Back home in Bear Creek, Thatch had carefully watched as Elizabeth, who had remembered the lollipop in her pocket, put it into her purse for later use.

Elizabeth smiled at her son's babbling attempt to say lollipop. There was no reason to explain to Jack that he now had competition for his son's affection.

* * *

That night, the noise from outside the window caused Elizabeth to jerk her head up from the pages of the book she had been reading.

 _Why do I keep reading scary things at night?! Especially after my ordeal?!_

Jack was lying on his back, the right side of his face with its evening stubble was pressed into the pillow. His eyes were closed. His breathing slow and gentle.

Elizabeth, who had been engrossed in her book, hadn't noticed exactly when Jack had fallen asleep. She guessed that it was sometime between her reading of the single young woman moving to the big city and the killing of the garbage man by the crazed assassin.

She was about to return to the open page in the novel, when she thought she heard the faint sound of something falling.

It was coming from the front room. She was sure of that. Maybe. Probably not.

 _What the heck was that?_

Elizabeth looked again at Jack.

 _How can he sleep so soundly?_

Elizabeth turned her head in the other direction and looked at the crib containing Baby Jack, or Thatch as she now usually called him after listening to Jack refer him to that nickname constantly.

 _Both my men. Sleeping like babies._

 _It was probably just the wind. Maybe blowing something against the front window or the door._

Straining her ears, Elizabeth thought she heard another sound in the front room. But it was so faint that she wasn't positive.

 _Maybe just my imagination._

 _Yes. That's it. My imagination._

 _Probably_.

Elizabeth tried to return her attention to her book, but there it was again!

Something or someone was moving about in the front room.

Jack and Thatch, oblivious to the noises, were still sleeping peacefully.

 _I can be brave. Just like the heroine in this book,_ Elizabeth thought.

Steeling herself against her fears, Elizabeth took a final look at Jack and threw back her covers.

 _I can be brave. I can be brave._ Elizabeth repeated. _I just have to walk into the front room and see what the noise is. Just grab a baseball bat, walk into the front room, and see what the noise is._

 _Oh, the heck with that. I'm tired of being brave. Goodness knows, I've been doing it enough lately._

Elizabeth pulled the covers back up and nudged Jack with her elbow. "Jack", she hissed.

He reacted to her nudge by moving slightly.

"Do your husbandly job", she ordered quietly so as not to disturb the baby.

Jack didn't open his eyes but sleepily mumbled. "Which husbandly job? Because if you're talking about making love to you or taking out the trash, I already did both of them tonight."

"Your other one," she hissed.

"We already ate dinner", he replied lazily as he turned onto his side. "I've provided for my family."

Elizabeth's hand pushed rudely against Jack's body. "Protect me!", she ordered in exasperation.

Jack was suddenly alert. His eyes opened wide. "What?! What's happened?"

"I heard a noise in the front room."

If Elizabeth had said the house was on fire or a tornado was coming, Jack couldn't have acted any faster. Within ten seconds, he was out of bed and had his weapon in his hand.

* * *

Two minutes later, Jack returned to the bedroom.

His unused weapon was still in his one hand. Cradled in his other arm were Comet and several skeins of blue yarn.

"I solved the mystery of your missing blue yarn. Comet's been stealing it and hiding it behind the sideboard. She was dragging another one across the floor when I found her," he said as he dumped the cat and yarn on the foot of the bed.

"Sorry", Elizabeth said guiltily and looking embarrassed that she had been frightened. "I was reading and I guess I scared myself."

"I told you not to read scary stuff before you fall asleep at night. You know it always gives you the creeps."

Jack unloaded his weapon and put it in the top dresser drawer before crawling back into bed.

"Comet's been stealing my yarn?" she said with a disappointed look.

"Yep. No ghost. Just a cat."

Jack closed his eyes after pulling up the covers. He wondered whether Elizabeth was going to turn out the light.

"Maybe Bunny told her to steal it. They're working together", Elizabeth mumbled pensively.

"I've got a poem for you", Jack said sleepily. "Roses are Red. Violets are blue. I want to sleep. Maybe you can, too?"

* * *

The morning sun was a brilliant warm yellow. It filtered in the home's windows and left a swath of sunlight on the front room floor. As Jack carried the mail inside after breakfast, he decided that it would be the perfect day for a family picnic.

He looked at the front counter which ran almost the entire length of the front room. A left-over from the building's days as a mercantile. He still had time to set up a small bed and install a curtain along the top before Nanny Naples eventually arrived to help. But he wouldn't do it today.

Today was meant for other things.

Today was too beautiful not to spend outside and allow Thatch to crawl in the grass. To look at bugs with his baby eyes wide with wonderment. To allow a pregnant Elizabeth to sit on a blanket and enjoy relaxing in the sunshine. To maybe sketch the scene.

"You got mail. From The Toronto Globe", Jack announced to Elizabeth when he walked into the kitchen. "And I think we should go for a picnic this afternoon."

Elizabeth, who was scraping the burnt bottom of a frying pan, dropped the pan onto the counter and looked at Jack with wide eyes. "From The Toronto Globe?!"

Without waiting for a further response, she grabbed the envelope from Jack's hand and excitedly ripped it open. She pulled out the sheet of paper and quickly scanned it.

"I won! I won!", she shrieked as she bounced on her feet in joy.

"The poetry contest?"

Elizabeth stared at the paper in her hand again and then looked up at Jack and grinned broadly. Her eyes were lit up in excitement. "I won first place. Forty dollars. Do you know how many books that will buy?"

Jack chuckled. "At least twenty. You told me before. Several times. Do I get to read this poem?"

* * *

Jack took his time reading the poem while Elizabeth busied herself with making an apple pie for the picnic, and with a sink full of dirty dishes.

"It's getting published in the paper!" she called again over her shoulder.

Jack looked up at his wife, who was standing in front of the basin of water. Her hair was piled up and she had a white apron tied around her waist. Anyone looking at her would see the epitome of a housewife; they would never guess that she managed to successful juggle marriage, motherhood, a teaching career, and solving mysteries. And win a poetry contest.

He looked back at the paper in his hands. Skimming the words this time.

 _He rides away from me. . . . They ask me how; the neighbors and family ask me how I get through each day. . . . . . He has my heart, I tell them. . . . . .He rides away from me with promises that he'll always return. . . . And I believe him.. . . ._

Setting down the paper, he watched Elizabeth blow a bubble at Thatch, who was sitting on the kitchen counter, his tiny bare feet splashing in the water as she cleaned the dishes.

"Is this how you really feel?"

Elizabeth looked up from the plate in her hands. "Of course."

"You don't worry about me?"

"Naturally I worry about you a bit. But I believe in you. In us", she replied with an unconcerned shrug. "Just like you worry about me a bit but you believe in me."

"That reminds me. What made you think to use a diaper pin to poke Mr. Sanders in the eye."

"A book I read."

"You read a book about a kidnapped woman poking a man in the eye with a diaper pin?" Jack asked skeptically.

Elizabeth laughed. "No, silly. I read a book about using whatever you have at hand to survive if you are in a tense situation. It said to find a weapon and wait for the element of surprise. It was one of your Mountie books."

"When did you read one of my Mountie books?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "One night when I was up late and you were gone. I saw it on your nightstand and decided to read more about your job".

"I am forever grateful that you love to read", he admitted with a grin.

Elizabeth smiled back. "Me too."

Jack looked back down at the poem in his hand. "What made you think to write about me for the poetry contest?"

"A book."

"Of course", Jack said with a laugh and an understanding nod of his head. "Why did I even bother to ask? My Mountie book?"

"Nope."

Elizabeth threw a drying rag to Jack, who stood up and moved to the sink.

He planted a kiss on his son's head which was now covered in bubbles, leaving Jack with suds on his lips. Jack wiped his mouth and then started drying a plate while he waited for Elizabeth to explain.

"I was reading one of those books which Mr. Sanders wanted banned. There was a character whose lover was going off to sea and she refused to wait for him. She told him that she'd rather marry a man who wasn't a sailor, even if she didn't care for him as much. It got me thinking about you and how I'll always wait for you. And that gave me the idea for the poem."

"So not only did Mr. Sander's list of books which he wanted banned give you the idea that the cattle were being poisoned, but it motivated you to enter a poetry contest, and gave you the idea for a poem which was responsible for you winning enough money to buy the very books he wanted banned."

Elizabeth couldn't hide her smile as she splashed some water on Thatch's legs and he giggled. "That about sums it up."

"If he had never tried to ban the books, he just maybe would have gotten away with his crimes."

"He did himself in."

"Well, I call that justice."

"I call it poetic justice", Elizabeth said with a grin as Jack put his arms around her belly and nuzzled her neck with his mouth.

 **The End of Vignette 13**

 **Dear Readers, Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Now that this Vignette is completed, I'll be returning to writing "Reversal of Fortune: What if things were different" under the name woolenslipper. If you haven't read it, give it a try! It's light and fun. A unique twist to the dialogue of the TV show.**

 **P.S.S. And don't forget to check-out Vignette Fourteen: The Surprising Sound of a Clue!**


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